#I’ve been snowed under with uni work it’s stupid

[matts-twin-sister]

[yetanotherpotterpage]

the idea of loving you | 4

Being in love is never easy. Especially with a certain blonde-haired Slytherin around.. /4th year, Voldemort not coming back/

pairing: Draco x Ravenclaw reader

word count: 2300

warnings: bad language, smut (kinda)

a/n: Uni is kicking my butt, but I finally finished chapter 4. Thank you so much for all the positive feedback, I love you all <3

There was an awkward tension lingering between Cho and you as you were walking back to your dorm from the party. She was walking a bit ahead of you, so you didn't get to see the face she was making. You were scared. This was the worst possible outcome of the night. You wanted to talk it out with her, but you were too nervous to start speaking. You've already been through so much together the last few years, from small arguments because of your untidiness to full-on fights because her first boyfriend called you a bitch, and she did nothing. But still, you've solved everything. You've suddenly stopped walking when you realized that running from this was only making it worse. It was now only her footsteps that echoed on the empty stairs. When she noticed you stopped, she turned around to look at you. She didn't seem angry or mad. She seemed just as confused and scared as you did, and seeing that gave you the strength to talk.

"Cho... How are you feeling?" you asked sheepishly, fingers fidgeting with the rings you were wearing.

She took a long pause before answering. You felt your heart racing more and more with each passing second. "If it's about the kiss, it's all good y/n. You did what you had to do."

It was almost midnight. You figured your other roommate was already asleep, so you sat down on the top of the spiral staircase of the Ravenclaw tower. Cho immediately joined you .

"You know, I've always imagined my first kiss to be with Cedric," you started, eyes fixated on the cracks of the stairs. " I thought it's going to be in our garden on a summer afternoon with the blue sky above us while the sun warmed our skins. That we'd just lay there on the grass, and he'd finally steal a kiss. You have no idea how much I wanted this. I gave him so many opportunities, but he never took them. It hurt so bad, I'd be lying if I said that I hadn't wished to feel nothing at all. I thought that I'm never going to get over him. But when we kissed it wasn't like I imagined it to be. It was disappointing, really. It's not that the kiss itself was bad, I-I guess I'm just changing." you said, finally looking up, to see her reaction. 

She looked at you, her tender eyes full of sympathy. "Telling me all this... I knew you're not a chicken," she chuckled softly, but her face turned serious as she continued. "I always wondered how much it hurts you that Cedric and me... you know, are dating. I was always so scared that you're going to break, even if you said it was okay. I live in constant guilt y/n." she said, trying to blink her tears away.

"I'm full of self-love, you've got to try harder if you want to break a person like me," you laughed, which made her smile. 

You've talked for a little while, before deciding it was better to get going. That night you slept together in your bed. She fell asleep quickly but your thoughts kept you up. It was dark, the only source of illumination was the moonlight from your tall windows. You stared at the ceiling as you listened to her breathing. Life really was unfair, you thought.

The next day was chaotic. No one cared about the classes, since everyone was thrilled about the upcoming ball that day. Even the teachers looked excited, and most of them gave you permission to read quietly or study for other classes. Not Snape though, he seemed like he was over this whole ball thing, so you brew potions. You didn't mind it, it was something you were good at. There was just one little thing that annoyed you, and it was a blue pair of eyes that burned a hole in the back of your head. You turned around in annoyance, not wanting to put up with this anymore. But your angry eyes were met with a playful wink from his end. You rolled your eyes and turned back in your seat, trying to concentrate on your potion when you heard him call your name.

"Psst, y/l/n." 

You let out an audible sigh, then turned to him. "What?" 

"Hope you're looking good for me tonight darling, I wouldn't want to hang out with Pansy all night," he said with a grin. 

Your blood was boiling at that point. Who does he think he is? Leaving you like that in the Three Broomsticks and making you feel like you're easily replaced as he's openly flirting with everyone in front of you, was not it. You're not even going to mention the fact that you were just a tool for him to get under Harry's skin. You seriously needed to do something about his cockiness. You needed to take the lead. And you needed to do it tonight.

Classes were finally over, so you ran to your dorm to meet up with your friends. You all decided that you're all going to get ready together. You were sitting on a chair, trying to put on your necklace as Marietta did your makeup. Or, at least she tried.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, y/n. Stop moving!" She said in a slightly annoyed tone. It was the fourth time she said that in the last 2 minutes. 

"Sorry," you said. You realized you were very bad at sitting in one place for a longer period of time. You also realized that it hurts a lot when someone pokes your eyeball with a mascara wand. 

After an hour of dolling you up, you were done, and you felt beautiful. Marietta did amazing on your makeup. It wasn't much, but it really enhanced your features, making you look the prettiest you've looked in a while. You did your own hair, and while you weren't the best at it, you've managed to do something presentable. Or so you thought before Cho offered to do it for you because she thought it was only half-done. You took her offer without hesitation.

"Merlin, look at us, we look so good," Cho said in awe after you were all done.

"Yeah, and look at our titties, we are full-grown women now," Marietta said while giving her boobs a squeeze. You agreed, looking at your own pair of boobs. All of you showed a little cleavage, except for Cho. She was a little more conservative in this field.

"Girls! You are intellectual women, and intellectual women don't talk about their tits," Cho laughed.

"Well, I guess we are intellectual women, who also love their tits," you compromised while trying to fix the strap of your dress.

When you went down to find Draco, you saw him already waiting for you. And Merlin, he looked immoral, with his perfectly styled hair and expensive tuxedo. When his eyes met yours you felt your cheeks heat up. No, you can't do this right now, you had to concentrate, you thought. But it was hard with him looking like that. 

When you got closer to him, he let out a low whistle as he looked you up and down, not even trying to hide the fact that he was checking you out. "You clean up well, y/l/n," he said, before taking your hand and kissing the back of it. Merlin, he made you so nervous, but you needed to loosen up for this to work. Tonight, you make him pay. 

Entering the great hall, your jaw dropped. It had never looked better. Everything was white and silver, and it looked so elegant. There were a few circular tables on either side of the room, and each table had its own ice sculpture in the middle. The first two tables from the door served drinks and food, and at the very back of the room stood 3 snow-covered Christmas trees. It was beautiful, you thought. 

The waltz went pretty well. Draco was a surprisingly good dancer, but the real fun started after the formalities. Luna told you, that some people mixed some Firewhiskey into the punch bowl. Some people being Fred and George. After hearing this, you quickly hopped to the table to pour yourself some. You've danced a lot that night, although you weren't sure if what you were doing could've been classified as dancing. You were mostly just jumping up and down and swinging your hip to the rhythm of the music. But the more punch you drank, you better you got at it. You were in the middle of slow dancing with Luna to a slower song when a hand grabbed your waist from behind. As you turned around you were met with none other than Draco himself. You kind of lost him after the waltz, since you went dancing with your friends, and he went off with his. 

"Where were you?" you asked him as he put one of his hands on your lower back and pulled you close to him, while the other reached for your hand. You were dancing with him now.

"With Pansy," he said simply, as he spun you around. " It got boring too quickly though." His voice was low, and you were suddenly aware of the close proximity between you two. 

"So you came back, to me," you drawled. "How noble." His hand on your back was dangerously low now.

He licked his lips "Don't worry, we didn't do anything bad. I'm all yours tonight." His voice hardly rose over a whisper. You wouldn't have survived this conversation if not for the alcohol in you. 

"Oh is that true?" you teased. Your faces were so close, that one small push could easily end in your lips pressed together.

"Want me to show you?" he breathed, eyes never leaving yours.

"Oh, I don't know, I might need a bit more motivation," you said with a smirk. Everything happened quickly. He gave you a grin, then guided your hands to the back of his neck before he raised your chin with his fingers, there was a pause, while he looked you in the eye with a serious expression before he kissed you. Your body reacted instinctively, and you opened your mouth a little, letting him deepen the kiss. It wasn't an innocent, sweet one. No, it was heated, and full of passion. Merlin, you hated how good it felt. He let out a groan as you bit his lower lip and you felt like the world was spinning around you.

"Was this motivating enough?" he whispered into your ear as he ended the kiss.

You bit your lips in hesitation. What you were about to do was very stupid and reckless, but this was your chance. He's made a fool of you several times before, but not today. This time it was you that wanted to leave him wrecked. "Let's get out of here," you purred.

So there you were, in an empty, half-lit corridor that echoed of your panting. This whole situation was so sinful. Red, swollen lips and hungry eyes were the only things you saw. You curled your fingers in the hair at his nape and jerked your hips against his, which resulted in a low groan from him. His eyes greedy as he snaked an arm around your waist, resting it on the curve of your ass, to urge you closer. You didn't waste a second, as you rolled your hips against his, feeling his hardening length as you sucked bruises on his delicate skin. He threw his head back to the wall in pleasure, as he let out a groan before he started fidgeting with the zipper on your dress.

You chuckled lowly as you snapped his hand away, "Eager much?" you cooed.

"You're such a fucking tease," he smirked with heavy eyelids.

"I'm not this easy, you might need to persuade me a little more," you purred. You'd definitely be embarrassed at your behavior, but the combination of alcohol and seeing the Slytherin Prince a desperate mess under your hands made you shameless. When you were with Cedric, you felt like a girl, and you liked that feeling. But with Draco, you felt like a woman. You felt dangerous and desired and it drove you crazy.

Your lips parted as he brushed his thumb against your lower lip before his fingers followed a trail under your jaw, hooking a finger under your necklace to pull you closer to him. "Is this how you want to play, y/l/n?" lips brushing against yours as he spoke before he snapped his hips forward. He was so hot, you wanted nothing more than to finish what you've started. And you were sure, you will at some point, but this wasn't that night. He looked at you, with confusion in his eyes as you took a step back and cleared your throat. 

"What are you doing?" he asked, in disbelief.

"Oh, I forgot I promised Harry a dance, and we certainly wouldn't want to make him wait now, do we?" you breathed, with a sly smile on your lips, before turning around to go back to the great hall.

He stood there in complete shock. He couldn't believe that this really just happened. You played him and left him with blue balls. He let out a laugh in disbelief when you had the audacity to turn around and send him a wink before disappearing into the hallway.

"Two can play at that game y/l/n," he said before he fixed himself, and headed back to the ball to find Pansy.

taglist: @dreaming-about-fanfictions @streetfighterrichie

[theshrubbery]

Here’s my new snowbaz fic!!

Summary: Back at Watford I was always on the ball with these things. I spent years suspecting he was a vampire and yet here I am, completely oblivious. Sometimes I feel as though I left all of that at Watford, like Baz took on a new identity when we left, like that’s an old life that I’m not a part of anymore.

Sometimes I forget that I’m not the only one with scars. My tail flicks pointedly.

Or; 5 times Simon forgot that Baz was a vampire, and 1 time he didn't.

________________________________________________________________

Baz has been gone for far too long. He’s never out this long. Especially not when he has uni the next day. It’s way past midnight, probably past one now. I haven’t checked in a while because that would mean I have to stop pacing long enough to look.

He should be back by now. Where is he?

He said he’d be back over an hour ago and he’s not answering his phone. It’s just ringing straight through to voicemail - he doesn’t even have the excuse that it’s died. Unless he’s lost it? But that’s unlikely. Baz never loses anything, Merlin knows how.  

I can’t take much more of this. I stop pacing, growl in frustration, run my hands through my hair and then slide my phone out of my pocket.

he’s still not back pen I type out quickly, sending it to Penny. She’s at home visiting her parents for the weekend, it’s her mum’s birthday. I’d give anything to have her here now, she always knows what to do. Unlike me. So much for being the chosen one, Merlin and Morgana I can’t do anything on my own.

Give him a little longer. Penny texts back in reply. I rush to unlock my phone so I can read it in full. Don’t go looking for him. Not with your tail and wings out.

Frustration bubbles up from my stomach to my chest. I hate this. I hate that I can’t just go out like a normal person. I hate that I can’t even open the door for a bloody delivery driver anymore without someone spelling all my extra parts invisible first. It’s demeaning and ridiculous and I feel like a ninny.

I clench my teeth and walk stiffly over to the table, finishing off the dregs of a bottle of cider - my third one of the night. So far. I shake the bottle a few times over my open mouth and then slam it down and continue to pace. At least it’s gotten me off the sofa, I suppose.

My stomach is in absolute knots. I’m so worried over this it’s making it ache. It doesn’t matter that we’re living safely amongst Normals, anything could have happened. It’s not like the underbelly of the Magickal world pays any attention to the rules.

Then, just as I really am about to go insane with worry, there’s a dull thump at the door. It rattles on its hinges, like someone’s thrown themselves against it and all I can think is I swear Baz took his keys when he left.

I rush to look through the keyhole, just in case. It’s a habit Baz and Penny absolutely drilled into me so that I didn’t swing the door open to anyone with my wings out.

It’s Baz. Oh, great snakes. Thank Merlin. Though the relief is short lived.

I yank the door open and my heart instantly drops to somewhere near my intestines.

Baz is heaving for breath, one arm clutching his bloodied shirt and the other hanging limply at his side, his wand in his hand. His clothes are dirty and torn, blood is puddling slowly at the floor by his feet. I’m having trouble breathing. It’s like the fight with the Mage all over again, it’s Ebb’s dead body.

Baz mutters a spell under his breath, I don’t catch what it is but it magicks the floor clean. Has he been doing that the entire way up here? Surely that’s draining way more magic than it’s worth! Energy that Baz could be better using to just concentrate on getting to the flat and not dying in the process.

“You goin’ to… You going to let me in or what?” Baz slurs, catching himself halfway through and fighting to get the words out. He’s gritting his teeth, his perfect mouth is stained red. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Baz slur, it’s disconcerting. I’ve known him most of my life and in all that time his enunciation was always near perfect at the worst of times, impeccable at the best. It’s part of what makes him so talented with magick.

“Oh fuck. Baz? Baz, what happened?” I rush out, distantly noticing I’m swearing like a Normal from the stress. My hands flutter around Baz, I don’t know where I should touch him, I don’t know if I can touch him. What if I make it worse? What if I hurt him?

“I got jumped,” Baz tells me, starting to shoulder his way past me and into the flat. “I got stabbed. Quite a few times, actually.”

I block the way, glad that Baz doesn’t seem to have the strength to boulder his way past me.

“Oh, god. We need to go to the hospital.” I dart to the dish on the hallway side, my vision tilting in panic as I grab my keys and wallet. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe what we’ve fought together and he’s been so badly maimed by muggers. This might even beat the Numpties incident. I can’t believe I’m thinking something like that at a time like this - this isn’t the time for jokes. Oh, god.

“I’m not going,” Baz says, pushing past me. I grab his shoulders to stop him, and then let go with a sickened jolt when he winces.

“Stop being stupid, Baz. Hospital. Now.” Baz leans his forearm on the door-frame and begins to bow over himself, groaning. My heart is hammering a mile a minute. “Look at you, you’re bleeding to death!”

Baz snorts. “If only.”

“What?”

“Merlin and Morgana, just let me in.” Baz spells the floor clean again. “Hurry up, before someone sees you.”

“But the-”

“Simon.” Baz lifts his bowed head to look at me, his forehead is crinkled. “Trust me. Don’t-” he breaks off with a load moan of pain, turning to rest his forehead on the arm holding him up against the frame.

“Baz!” My voice is shaking so hard it’s difficult to imagine I ever stood up to dragons, if this is all it takes to bring me down. To be fair, I think I’d go down with a lot less, too, these days.

“I need to lay down,” Baz says faintly. I really don’t like this. I mean, who would? But this is terrifying. It’s always Baz cleaning up after me, Baz patching me up, Baz is never the one as vulnerable as this. I don’t like it, I hate it, and I hate that I don’t have a single clue what to fucking do.

“Fine. Fuck. Okay, come on,” I stutter out. I take Baz’s wand, ignoring the pang in my chest at holding it, and sling his arm over my shoulders. I lead him into the flat, kicking the front door closed behind us, and walk us slowly to the sofa.

Baz staggers his way over, holding out his other arm and grabbing at things as we pass them. He grabs the back of a chair, the sideboard, the back of the sofa. He’s leaving blood stains but I don’t care.

“Easy, Snow,” Baz says as I lower him down, as gently as I possibly can. Baz’s eyes look a little glazed and I feel sick.

“I got you,” I tell him quietly. I put his wand on the coffee table.

“Your hands’re shaking,” Baz mumbles, his words stringing together, like that’s the most important fucking thing to be realising right now. Maybe he’s going into shock? I really doesn’t know what to do. I needs Penny. Penny would know what to do.

Once he can feel the sofa beneath him, Baz lays himself down and I lift both his legs up onto the sofa for him. I try to make him as comfortable as possible despite the way they hang, lanky, over the arm. Or as comfortable as one can be when he’s fucking bleeding out and refusing to get any medical attention .

“Do you need anything?” I ask quickly, already pulling my phone out to scroll for Penny’s number.

“Towel or something, please. Just to soak the blood.”

“Okay, love. Okay. I got it. I’ll be right back.” I kiss his forehead and rush off, holding the phone to my ear with my shoulder as I crash my way into the bathroom and start rummaging around for towels and anything that might possibly help.

“Simon? What is it?” Penny's tinny voice asks. Not even a hello, that’s so typical, straight to the point. Right now I’m extremely thankful for it. I pull a plastic bowl out of the sink and throw some towels in it as I reply.

“Baz’s hurt. He got jumped. I think he’s been stabbed.”

“Merlin, stabbed? How is that possible? Is he alright?”  

“He’s bleeding bad and refusing to go to hospital.” I throw a half empty packet of plasters in my bowl as though they’ll help anything. “I don’t know what to do, Pen.”

“I mean… He can’t go to hospital anyways, Simon. He should be fine unless it was some special sort of weapon. I mean, I can’t think of many ways that a knife can actually kill a vampire.” And then the other shoe drops.

“Oh, shit,” I swear, realisation washing over me in a great big wave of Simon you complete buffoon.

“What is it?”  

“A vampire. Great snakes, Pen, I forgot he was a bloody vampire!”

“Oh, Simon,” Penny says with a sigh. Though there’s still a worried edge to her voice. “No wonder you were worrying so much.”

“Now it makes sense why he wouldn’t go to hospital.”

“Go and look after him, Simon. He’ll be alright. Just keep him comfortable and he’ll be healed up in no time. If he’s still not healed by the time I come back home I’ll sort him out.”

“I will. Sorry, Pen. For disturbing you so late. But- thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s what I’m here for.” There’s a muted beep as she hangs up the phone, and I shove it back in my pocket. I feel like a complete idiot. Vampire. How on earth could I possibly forget that? I’m going to blame it on my panic. I’m going to blame it on the fact Baz doesn’t hang from walls and kidnap virgin maidens to drain their blood, the fact he doesn’t turn into a bat.

Or at least not that I’m aware of.

I take the towels and box of plasters out of the empty bowl and fill it with warm water out the bathroom tap instead, then carry all of it back to the sofa and set it out on the floor next to Baz.

He’s still lying exactly how I left him, though with one arm draped over his eyes, the other clutching in a white-knuckled grip at his torso.

“Took you long enough,” Baz says in a low voice. It almost sounds like a groan.

“Sorry, Baz.” I kneel down, my legs tucked under me. “I completely forgot about the whole… Vampire thing.”

“Vampire thing,” he parrots back. “Right. So I heard. That would explain things.” Guilt rushes through my system, heats my cheeks. Of course he heard me on the phone. Back at Watford I was always on the ball with these things. I spent years suspecting he was a vampire and yet here I am, completely oblivious. Sometimes I feel as though I left all of that at Watford, like Baz took on a new identity when we left, like that’s an old life that I’m not a part of anymore.

Sometimes I forget that I’m not the only one with scars. My tail flicks pointedly.

“Does it hurt?” I ask him, dunking a towel in the water. “How did it even happen?”

Baz nods and makes a small noise deep in his throat. “Yeah. It hurts. It probably will for a few hours, then it’ll mostly just be itchy. I’ll heal in no time. The only reason I’m even bleeding like this is because I’d just fed - I’ll have to go again once this is sorted.”

“But how did it happen? Was it another vampire?” Surely there has to be more to the story than this. Baz looks uncomfortable, if a little sheepish.

“Just your average alleyway muggers, really.” I raise my eyebrows.

“Crowley.” I curse. “How’d you manage that?”

“I didn’t want to hurt them,” Baz admits with a wince, lowering his arm and staring up at the ceiling. “It would, of course, been fairly easy to tear them to shreds with my bare hands. But that isn’t something I was willing to do.”

“Christ, Baz. There’s going easy on people and then there’s this.” I let go of the towel and gesture sweepingly across Baz’s abdomen and chest. “They shouldn’t have been able to leave this much damage on you.”

Baz looks distant, like he’s weighing things up in his head. I hate that look. It means he’s deciding how much I need to know.

We haven’t really been getting along as well as we used to, recently. Or maybe, it’s just hard to transition from sworn enemies to boyfriends in the matter of a few days. We’ve only been out of Watford a couple of months, but it’s been difficult for us. At first we couldn’t stop kissing and groping for long enough to watch a full episode of the Bake Off but recently it’s like there’s some invisible wedge growing between us.

I still love him, I’m sure of it. I think he loves me, too. But I don’t know what I’m doing. What we’re doing. We need to talk, communicate, but I’m terrified that if we do he’ll leave me. So I just let the divide deepen, and hate myself for it the entire time.

Looking at Baz now, though, I’m scared that I’m looking at the same Baz that tried to set himself alight in the woods. He has issues too, he just hides them better than I do. I feel like such a shit boyfriend, I can’t help him. One day he’ll realise he’s better than me, that I’m not good enough. But I don't want him to go, and that's selfish.

“I didn’t want to hurt them,” Baz repeats after a long silence. “Either way, they were pretty scared by the fact I stayed on my feet for so long.”

“Of course they were, if you were normal you’d be dead.”

Baz immediately flinches, his smirk drops along with my stomach.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” I say quickly, but the words catch in my throat and sound like an insincere stutter. “You are normal. For you, I mean.”

Baz sighs. For a second I think he’s going to punch me, but then I realise it’s the opposite. He deflates; his pinched brow and glazed eyes are the fight leaving him.

“Help me out of this shirt,” he says, letting it go.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“But I’m not normal, am I? Not for me. I wasn’t born this way, I was made. It was forced on me,” he quips. Sharp and fast and unfaltering. His eyes are blazing again.

“I-”

“It’s fine.” As quickly as the sparks catch they return to ash again. I really am sorry though. He won’t let me say it, not out loud, so I carry it like a mantra through my thoughts; I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry. “Help me with the shirt. Please, love.”

I bite my lip, but the endearment melts me a little. I know that it’s genuine, even if there is a whole void of unsaid things drifting between us. I reach for the buttons, undoing them as best I can with how my hands are shaking. I have to fight to keep my wings still, my tail, but it’s a losing battle. It’s written all over my body how agitated and nervous I am.

The shirt (the white shirt, why Baz hunts in a white shirt is beyond me) is torn across the chest and stomach, and as I undo the buttons and push the sides apart, my hand accidentally slides through the slash. Baz flinches, though he tries to control it.

“Watch the gaping bloody holes,” he says bluntly. I wince. There’s two glistening puncture wounds, I do my best not to look at them.

I pull the shirt away from him, bracing a hand on his back to help him sit up so I can pull it from under him even though I’m fairly sure he doesn’t really need the help. Looking at him, I can already see where the skin is healing. It doesn’t scab and clot, like flesh wounds normally do, the skin just seems to stitch itself smoothly back together.

I ball his shirt up and throw it to the side, then gently begin wiping the blood away with a damp towel.

“Careful, Snow,” Baz warns with a quiet hiss.

“Does it still hurt?” I have no idea how vampire pain receptors work.

“Crowely, Snow. Of course it hurts. I got stabbed .” Baz doesn’t really sound mad, but his voice has an edge to it.

“I’m sorry,” I say again. I don’t really know what else to say.

Baz doesn’t reply straight away. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. I carry on wiping at the blood, vaguely recognising that, really, this isn’t even Baz’s.

“Why do you keep apologising so much?” He asks softly.

“I just- I don’t know.” I really don’t. “I just keep making you feel bad, and what sort of boyfriend forgets his boyfriend is a vampire? I’m sorry, Baz. Really.”

“It’s alright, Simon.” My stomach flutters at the use of my first name. “I’m glad I have you.” Baz always does this. He puts affection over everything like a salve. Lately he won’t let me be in the wrong, not him or Penny. The both of them walking on eggshells with me. It’s why nothing ever gets properly sorted out. Now isn’t the time for a fight, though.

“I bet you could do a better job with magic,” I mutter bitterly anyways.

“I don’t want to use magic. I’ve used enough magic. I don’t think I’d have enough left in me if I wanted to regardless.”

“Are you sure this is okay?”

“Absolutely, Simon. Absolutely.”

I carry on patching him up in silence. Even though it’s pointless. He’ll heal anyways, but he doesn’t stop me from wrapping the towels around him like a bandage and applying pressure with my hand. I look at where my hands are pressing over the wounds, trying to focus on the solid pressure of Baz beneath them.

The pain is mostly gone out of his face now, he just looks uncomfortable.

I wonder how indestructible Baz is. I wonder how long he’ll live. I wonder- no. I swallow. It’s no good thinking about all of this, not now, at least.

“I’m going to nap,” Baz says.

“Here? Or…?”

“I’ll be alright here, don’t worry.” I stare down at him until he looks back up at me. My heart squeezes as our eyes make contact and I reach up to press my hand against the side of his his grey face. His eyes seem to melt a little, he smiles and turns his head to kiss my hand.

“Come to bed. With me,” I whisper. I don’t want to be away from him right now. I need him near me, I need to feel that un-dead chest breathing.

It’s a struggle, but I help him up, and keep an arm around his waist as I lead him to the bedroom. He gets into bed first, lifting the covers and sliding in with a low hum. He’s falling asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow. I notice how he pushes the covers away so that they don’t get stained.

I don’t care, I climb in and pull them over the both of us.

Baz lays still for a moment, tense. Then he shuffles closer to me, rests his head on my shoulder. I press my cheek to the top of it, hoping to smell bergamot. All I can smell is the tangy copper of blood. He’ll be wanting to shower once he’s awake, Baz hates being a mess.

He’s cold where he presses against me, but I don’t mind. He’s a vampire. It’s part of the deal. I want him as he is, not as he wishes he should be. I wonder if he thinks the same of me.

[mageicalwishes]

Read on AO3: here

Rating: Teen & Up

Summary: Simon and Baz have barely spent any time together recently with Baz bogged down at Uni, so a cosy night-in with Great British Bake-off and Dinner is long overdue.

Tags: Fluff, Flirting, Great British Bake Off, Innuendo, Simon Helps Baz Cope With Exam Stress, Domestic Fluff, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, One Shot.

Words: 1,621

Simon

“Hey, Snow. I’m just going to head home and shower quickly, and then I’ll be on my way. Give me … Forty minutes?”

He sounds tired - So tired - but it’s nice to hear his voice.

We’ve barely spoken these last few weeks, with his Uni Assessment Period - Our conversations cut down to ‘Good morning’s, ‘Good luck’s and ‘Good night’s - But it’s alright. I understand.

He’s been completely swamped with Essays and Exams recently. And last time we were together when he was trying to study, he got awfully snappy. It’s not that I was trying to be annoying or anything, but I’ve never been the best at sitting still … or being quiet, so I know that I was (Even though he was too polite to say so, at the time).

So this time we kept our distance. Even though it hurt.

“Yeah, okay. Are you … are you sure that you want to come over today? We can rearrange or something, if you want to rest at home, instead. I haven’t cooked dinner or anything, yet. It’s no hassle.” I offer, doing my best to sound encouraging (Although even I can hear the disappointment in my voice).

“No I- It’s been far too long. I’ll be there as soon as possible, Love.”

“Alright then. If you're sure,” I smile. “I’ll see you soon."

————————————————————————————

I open the door to a disarrayed Baz - His under-eyes blackened, skin dulled, and hair hanging in a waved, damp sheet against his face. Compared to his usual impeccable self, he looks a mess (Well, the Baz version of a mess, anyway. He’d still be right at home on some fancy fashion billboard. The fit tosser), and if the droning tone he greets me with is anything to go by, he feels it too. 

I want to drag him into a kiss and snog him until he forgets all about Uni and Tests and shitty Economics, but I don’t know if I should. If I can. And … It’s been so long that I don't think that I’d even be able to do it right. Knowing me, It’d probably just end up being all stiff and awkward, which I doubt would help. So I refrain. 

“Hey,” I say. “How did your test go?”

“I’m going to torch the Examinations Office,” he deadpans, shoving the door closed. 

Fuck. Wincing, I reach up and help him shrug off his coat. “That bad, huh?”

“Worse. I’m being generous because they at least had the decency to include a few multiple choice questions. Otherwise the whole bloody building would be getting it.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, grabbing a hold of hands and tracing swirls against the cool of skin. “But I’m sure that you’ve done better than you think. You're clever, and you've definitely put enough work in, so I'm sure that if you found it difficult, everybody else did too. Grade boundaries will help you out.”

“Hmm. Maybe,” he hums, clearly unconvinced. 

“Definitely,” I assert, pulling him into the Living room. “But just … try and forget about all that, now. However it went, it’s over, so don’t stress. Let’s just watch some Bake Off, yeah? I’ve been saving them all so that we could watch them together.” 

That, finally, earns me a smile. And while it’s small, and painfully fleeting, it’s definitely there, which is a start. 

“Yeah alright,” he sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to my temple. “Let’s do that.”

Once we settle down onto the sofa, I tug him close to my side and rub the back of my hand against his stomach slowly, as we watch - The tension of his body loosening under my ministrations. 

“You alright?” I mumble, resting my jaw atop his head.  

“Yes. Why?” 

“You’re all quiet, that’s all. Normally you insult all of their bakes.” 

“Yeah, I’m just … I’m concerned that I haven’t done enough. I need to finish with a First. I know - What I’ve done wasn’t good enough. I’m sure of it.” 

Back at Watford, I'd always just assumed that Baz didn’t stress about Work, or Exams, or Grades. He'd always appeared so infallibly unbothered, and it seemed to me that he could get perfect grades in his sleep. But … I guess that I wasn’t paying close enough attention (Not to that, anyway). 

I’ve seen the ugly side of Baz’s academic achievement now. Drafting and re-drafting essays until his eyes are heavy and his wrists are pounding. Staying up all night to cram in more revision time, and forcing himself through the next day with obscene amounts of coffee. The stern, miserable day-long silences when he fails to get the grades he was hoping for. 

I’ve told him time and time again to ease up on himself - That A ‘B’ isn’t the end of the world, and that exhausting himself will do no good - but he never listens. And I don’t know how to make him see. All I can do is try and comfort him when it gets bad. 

“Baz. Come on. You’re some kind of freaky, vampire genius. I’m sure what you did is more than enough. Okay? You just need to … relax.” He doesn’t answer, so I tilt him off of my chest and twist his jaw around to face me. “Okay?” 

Pouting, he swats my hand away and spins himself back around (Stroppy git). “Alright. If you say so, Snow” 

Smiling, I pinch at his waist, earning myself a delightfully startled yelp. “Tell me what you think of that guy’s soggy bottom then.” 

“You’re a nightmare,” he scoffs. But behind his words, I know he’s smiling. I can hear it clear as day. 

We don’t talk much at all after that, and soon enough he falls asleep. 

We’re barely half way through the first episode, when his breaths even out into soft, sleepy puffs. And while I had intended to binge through at least the first half of the series, I’m glad for it - It’s obvious that he needs the sleep. 

So, leaning over as best I can with his weight still pressed against me, I pull Penny’s discarded blanket over him and switch channels, settling myself in for the night, contentedly. 

————————————————————————————

Baz

I awake disoriented and heavy, Snow’s far away voice calling out for me as he shakes my arm gently. The room coming back to me in pieces - A warm sofa, and dim lights. The curtains drawn and television murmuring on quietly. And Simon - Beaming up at me from where he’s crouched on the floor. 

“Hey, sleepyhead. I made you dinner.” 

Scrubbing the sleep from my eye, I speak, voice low and rough. “What time is it?” 

“Uh … I dunno like Nine or something? Why?” 

“Nine!” I repeat. “Crowley, Snow, why didn’t you wake me?” 

“You were sleepy,” he whines. “Come on, Bazzy, it doesn’t matter. Lets just eat dinner. I’m starved.” 

I glare at him as best I can with him looking at me like that, dimple popping sweetly and eyes aglow (Which, as it turns out, isn’t very well at all. Since I can’t help the enamoured smile from breaching it’s way across my face, which I imagine rather weakens the blow). “Don’t call me that.” 

Leaning forwards, he presses a kiss to my lips, murmuring out a muffled “Grump”, before pulling away and running off towards the kitchen. Imbecile. 

A moment later he’s back, carrying in a huge casserole dish, spoons, and what I assume is Blood, held in that ghastly Fang-print mug he insisted on buying for me off of Amazon. 

“Shepard's Pie alright?” he asks, flopping himself down besides me, and handing me the offensive mug. 

“More than,” I sigh, pressing a kiss to the mole in the centre of his palm. “Thank you, love.” 

“It’s alright. I made Brownies for pudding too, if you want them.” 

I feel my throat pinch, pathetically at his earnestness.

He’s been ridiculously sweet to me tonight, even though I’ve practically ghosted him for the better part of a month. Even though I don’t really deserve it. 

We’re still not the best at being affectionate with one another - What with all of our … ‘Issues’ these past few years, and the fact that we’ve had far more practise being enemies than boyfriends - but he’s clearly pulling out all the stops this evening. And I’m endlessly grateful. 

Simon Snow my stupid, selfless hero. I must’ve done something really spectacular in a past life to have earnt myself him in this one. 

“Snow. I’m sorry.” 

“Huh. What for?” He asks, frowning. “I - If you want something different I can make it for you. Or … we could have takeaway if you’d prefer.”

“No, no. It’s not that,” I assure, smoothing a hand down his thigh. “I’m sorry for being so absent recently. I didn’t mean to … isolate myself quite so much. It’s not that I didn’t want to spend time with you, you know that I … that I always do. I just got caught up in it all." 

And then he’s laughing at me, tongue poking between his teeth and shoulders shaking. “It’s fine, Baz. You don’t need to go all serious on me. Uni is important, I understand. And you’re here now. That’s all that matters.” 

“Yeah. I’m here now,” I echo. 

“And … I’m sure that you’ll make it up to me later,” he jokes, waggling his eyebrows in comical suggestiveness. A light flush filling his cheeks. 

With a splutter of laughter, I shove him away from me in faux disgrace. Although, knowing me, he’s probably right. I’m painfully weak for Simon Snow. 

I’d do anything he asked of me. I’d give him all that I am. I’d tie our hearts together chamber by chamber.

And I’ll definitely be ‘making it up to him later’ … if that's what he wants. 

[sadaboutniall]

something about you;

introduction | masterlist | tag | wattpad

Eight. January, 2009. 

He can’t get enough of kissing her. 

Isla is his girlfriend now, has been for over two months, and Niall still can’t get enough of it: can’t get enough of walking with his arm around her in the hallway at school, can’t get enough of bringing her name up in front of Colm during practice, can’t get enough of the sight of her in his jumpers, can’t get enough of this, right now, the way he has her laid out underneath him on his twin-sized bed, his hands up under her jumper, her fingers tangled in his hair. They’ve been kissing for what feels like hours and he’s insatiable, riled up, pulls away every time he has to breathe only to feel like he’s suffocating without her mouth on his. He can’t imagine he’ll ever get enough of her. He can’t imagine ever going anywhere if she’s not around. 

And she’s the same way—Isla’s never been particularly shy around him but he knows now that there’s a whole side of her no one gets to see, a layer just for him, where she’s passionate and loving and soft, never satisfied with just one more kiss, just one more cuddle. He thinks about when he met her, 7 years old and looking at him on the ground, covered in mud, and looks at her now almost exactly seven years later, sprawled out underneath him, a deep, purple hickey blossoming on her neck. The thought of how far they’ve come makes him want to cry. 

Still straddling her, Niall sits back on his haunches, hands resting on Isla’s hips. It’s only a few days into January and outside Niall’s bedroom window it’s snowing—thick, heavy flakes falling to the ground fast and hard. It started hours ago and there’s a claustrophobic blanket of it covering the grass, the street, the trees, the cars, muffling every sound, softening every light. Night falls in mid-afternoon in January, too, making it feel like 11pm when it’s just barely 6:30. Isla’s been over since 10am and they spent the day mostly like this: snogging, napping, cuddling, laughing. She brought a book over and curled up next to him while he played guitar, they fucked around on FIFA together for a few hours, rolling over laughing as they designed the ugliest possible kits they could imagine, gave their squads the stupidest names they could think up. He made her an omelette for lunch—ham and cheese, her favorite—and almost choked to death laughing when she started joking about their head teacher, a spot-on impersonation that almost terrified him with how good it was. 

When he’s with Isla, Niall doesn’t feel that familiar desperation to get out, that dread that his life is going to stop here, slam up against a brick wall on the edges of Mullingar and wither away. He still wants to get out but he thinks about doing it with her: he can figure something out for himself in London while she’s at uni and he can build something he’s proud of, wherever Isla is. He feels safe with her, less afraid of time pushing forward, of his life fading away. 

‘You thinking about something?’ Isla slides her palms up Niall’s thighs and he focuses back in on the moment. Back in on his Isla. ‘You’ve got your thinking face on.’

‘Just uni and stuff,’ it’s easy, Niall’s found, not to keep things from Isla. He doesn’t feel stupid telling her what he’s thinking, even though he knows she’s a million miles smarter than he’ll ever be. ‘London.’

‘What about it?’ When Isla asks questions they’re gentle. Not probing, not accusatory. He doesn’t feel like she’ll laugh at his answers, or tell him the things he wants are out of reach. 

‘Dunno, just,’ he scratches the back of his neck. ‘What I can do in London, while you’re at uni. I don’t know if I’ve got the marks to get into a music conservatory. I can try to do pub gigs, odd jobs, things like that, but I’ll need to figure out accommodation and rent in London is so expensive and—’

‘Niall, Niall,’ Isla reaches up to cup Niall’s cheek. Her hands are warm and soft and he calms down almost immediately. ‘We’ve got ages still. But we can look at conservatory programs and unis and stuff tomorrow if you want. I’m looking after Aiden while you’re at football practice but if you want to come over afterward we can use my dad’s computer.’ 

‘You’d look with me?’ Niall’s never felt like his future has been of that much interest to anyone. 

‘Yeah, of course. We could go talk to Mrs. Healy, too, get her advice.’

‘Oh, Jesus,’ Niall grimaces at the thought of spending time with the school’s guidance counsellor, her suffocating office in the back of the administration building, the overwhelming cloud of perfume that follows everywhere she goes. ‘Spare me.’

Isla laughs, her nose scrunching up as she does. ‘I think she wears all that perfume to cover up the smell of her crush on Mr. O’Hagan.’

‘Stop,’ Niall’s jaw drops, Isla still laughing underneath him. He loves the way her laugh gets when she’s not self-conscious—her double chin, her lopsided smile, a cackle in the back of her throat. Her laugh is so funny that it sets him off too more often than not, and he’s already giggling before he can finish the rest of his sentence. ‘Do you really think?’

‘Oh my God, totally. Have you seen the way she moons over him? I bet she keeps a lock of his hair in her bra, or something.’

‘Is that what girls do when they have crushes?’ Niall’s sure his face is beet red from laughter, but he doesn’t care. ‘Do you need a lock of mine for yourself?’

‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ Isla leans up for another kiss, smiling against his lips. ‘The hair would need to be natural.’

-- 

When Isla’s dad comes to pick her up at 8, Niall walks her to the door. She’s wrapped up in one of his jumpers and a scarf but he can still see the dark hickey he left on her neck this afternoon, and Niall’s dad can, too, when he says goodnight to Isla in the kitchen. 

Niall kisses her goodnight at the door and watches until the tail lights of her dad’s car disappear around the corner. The snow is still falling and his heart feels like the center of the universe, buoyed by endless possibilities for the future. 

When he steps back into the kitchen, Bobby is leaning against the counter. 

‘You’re being safe with her, Niall?’ He asks it straight out and the surprise attack works exactly the way it should: Niall doesn’t have time to think about his answer, to weigh whether or not it’s worth lying.

‘We’re not doing that, da,’ he says, and it’s the truth. He wants to, one day. He knows Mully and Emilia are, and a couple of his other friends, too. They’ve done a little touching, him and Isla, but nothing more than that—nothing that’s gone very far. 

Bobby nods, and Niall exhales, relieved his dad believes him. ‘When you do, you can tell me. I don’t want you to make any stupid mistakes.’

‘Thanks, da,’ Niall makes moves for the stairs, but Bobby calls his name again. He turns back around. 

‘She’s a sweet girl, Niall. I like her. Be good to her.’

‘I will, da.’

‘Boys your age can be eejits without realizing it. I just want you to use your head.’

‘You don’t need to worry about that, da. I’m not gonna do anything stupid. I love her.’ He hasn’t said it before, but it comes out easy, natural, the most logical thing in the world. He does love her. There’s no question about it, nothing scary about it, nothing new about it. He’s known it, he realizes, for the better part of a decade now—there hasn’t been a moment of his life since that day in 2000 that he hasn’t, in some way, carried the thought of her through. There hasn’t been a night without a dream about her, an afternoon without a few hours spent fantasizing about life with her. He feels safe and full and like things matter when Isla’s there. He feels happier with her than he could ever imagine being without her. He loves her. He has loved her for a long, long time.

‘Have you told her that?’ Bobby’s asking, and Niall shakes his head. 

‘Not yet.’

Bobby nods. ‘Be careful.’

####

taglist: @stylishmuser @thicksniall @stayclose-holdsteady @niallhoranruinsme @ajayque @flickerswinehouse @1dfangirls35 @crocodileniall @halfpinthoran 

join the taglist here

[simon-snows-pitch]

So? Let them see.

Thanks again for this request @problematicmind! Also, I got carried away and wrote more than I intended. But I’m pleased.

Simon

I’m sitting on the step outside the NAB, watching students spread out across the field. It’s a nice day--blue sky, not a cloud in sight. A rarity for London. Baz will hate it. I don’t usually like to come this far into the city, but I wanted to surprise him as it’s the last day of term. Maybe we can go grab a curry or pop into Fishers. Yeah, fish and chips sounds nice. 

A whole group of people start filtering out of the NAB’s double doors. They’re all dressed pretty smartly--I know Baz fits in here, even if he likes to pretend he doesn’t. (I think he does it for my sake, since I haven’t been able to get into Uni. I don’t mind though. I like working.) 

And then there’s Baz with his usual grim expression, joining the queue of people exiting. His hair looks even more shiny and perfect than usual as he steps into the sunlight. He’s breathtaking.

“Baz!” I call, hopping up and walking toward him. 

“Snow?” he asks. He looks puzzled to see me, but smiles anyway.

“Hi.” I give an awkward wave. I’ve stopped a bit short, trying to hold myself back a bit. “How was class,” I ask as I shove my hands in my pockets. Baz cocks an eyebrow. Usually I give him a kiss when he comes home, but we don’t really do that in public. There are so many people here--the walk is swarming with students. 

He considers me for a moment before he responds. “Good. A bit of a drag.”

“Really?”

“No, not really,” he says. He takes a small step toward me. “I quite liked it.”

“Yeah? Do you get to take it again?”

“No. Snow. What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” I ask, raking my hands through my hair. I return them to their pocket prisons.

Baz takes another step closer, and I realize too late that I’ve taken a step back. “That. You’re stepping away from me. And you’re fidgeting. More than usual, that is.”

“Oh? I am? Oh, uh. Well, I--”

He cuts me off. “And where’s my kiss?”

I look down at the sidewalk and find my shoes are quite interesting to look at. He waits silently. Finally, I give in and say, “Do you want to? I mean, here? There are a lot of people. I don’t know, I don’t want to...”

“Don’t want to what?” Baz asks. His voice is gentle, but he’s stepped closer again. I tell my feet to stay put, and they listen. 

“Um... cause a scene? Or, I don’t know, embarrass you--in front of your classmates.”

I feel Baz’s cool hand under my chin as he tilts my head up so I have to look him in the eye. His expression surprises me. He’s smiling--no, he’s grinning. Grinning, and he looks like he’s on the verge of teasing me. I feel an ache in my chest. I want to kiss him, so, so badly. 

His voice is still soft when he answers me. “Snow. Simon.” Well, I guess this just got serious. “I come to classes in pink suits and flowered shirts. I have the best-manicured hands in all of LSE, women included. I spend my free time on campus reading Maya Angelou and Outlander. Honestly, anyone who hasn’t realized that I’m as queer as they come is unbearably thick. And of course”--he pauses to clear his throat, and the lightest tinge of pink creeps up his neck--“the most obvious clue to my sexuality might be that I’ve told them all about you. Do you really want them to think I’m so impossible that my own boyfriend can’t stand to kiss me?”

It takes me second to take in what he’s said. I keep opening and closing my mouth, but it’s hard work trying to figure out the words I want to say.

“You--you told them? About me?” I can’t believe that Baz willingly shared anything about himself, let alone about us. Something warm blooms in my chest.

“Well,” he begins, pausing to pick a nonexistent lint from his shirt. “Some of the guys were measuring up their girlfriends, if you will, and I couldn’t help but brag... about you.”

Now I’m the one grinning. He’s probably going to tell me I look stupid, but I don’t care. I’m still nervous though, so I ask him, “And what if someone sees us and, uh, doesn’t like it?”

“So?” He asks, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me close. “Let them see.” And with that, he leans down and starts kissing me. His lips are cool and he tastes like mint, and--Merlin!

I break away. “Baz, you’re going to char!”

[basilgrimbitch]

Day Eleven/Twelve: Maniac

I’ve very clearly fallen super behind on the countdown but December is always just so busy. I’m just gonna post when I can. This is a short fic for the angst/song fic prompts. Not my best work but I wanted to write something. the ending is a bit open ended? make of it what you will. 

Words: 2079

Note: the song is Maniac by Conan Gray

No warnings, hope you enjoy :)

_____

SIMON

I walk into the flat and throw myself onto my bed. Can this week just be over? Crowley, I know I’ve had worse. Way worse. I just thought once the humdrum (and my magic) was gone nothing else would hurt this much, but I feel like my heart’s been ripped out, like I’m being drained all over again. That’s why I tried so hard to stop myself from caring so much, placed a distance between us for so long, some kind of wall. But he made me want to break all those walls down just to see him. Now I can’t.

I grab my phone out of my back pocket and start scrolling through Baz’s Instagram because, really, what else can I do anymore? Penny’s at some party with Agatha and well yeah that’s about it. I should go out, do something, do someone. Fuck, I miss Baz.

My phone rings briefly and… oh shit, it’s a text from Baz.

____________

Friday 21/10

Baz <3 [23:44]: Snoww

Baz <3 [23:44]: simoon

Baz <3 [23:45]: i fucked up, fuck fuck fuck ii fuckedup

Baz <3 [23:45]: sory

Read 23:4

____________

Shit he’s drunk. Is he like all alone drunk at home? Or is he out, getting drunk with his friends or minions or whatever the fuck he wants to call them. I don’t know what would be worse. I don’t want to think about this; I don’t want to think about Baz or his hair or his rosy cheeks when he drinks or the fact that I miss him. I can feel the thoughts of him swarm in my head and I try my best to push them back. I used to be good at this. Not thinking. My head is beating like crazy that I can hear the thumping headache.

I decide I’m going to stay in bed and feel sorry for myself until further notice. I put my playlist on shuffle and oh of course, some Conan Gray, it’s like my phone knows I’m not coping with this break up well.

 You were with your friends, partying

When the alcohol kicked in

____________

Friday 21/10

Baz <3 [23:51]: u kno wa fuCK YU

Baz <3 [23:52]: this not myh fualt

Read 23:55

____________

My phone is still chiming and the thumping in my head is still going. I go into the kitchen to grab some Panadol and water and the thumping is louder and louder. Aleister fucking Crowley, it’s not thumping it’s the door knocking. What? How? Why? I look at my phone and it’s close to quarter past midnight - and I have six missed calls from Baz.

 So, you showed up at my home, all alone

With a shovel and a rose

Do you think I'm a joke?

 Of fucking course. Let me just paint you a picture: Baz Pitch plus London rain along with the drinking attitude of a 50-year-old Irishman and a bouquet of flowers (if you can still even call them that; they’re destroyed.) and of course wearing a scowl that says, “I still broke up with you.” Because the git still can’t get over himself, even when he’s drunk at my door holding flowers at midnight.

I want to slam the door in his face. I probably should. But then I hear myself saying,

“Are you okay?”

FUCK!

He takes a deep breath, “Yeahh, yeah… well no.” he’s slurring his words a bit. A month ago, I would’ve teased him about it and kissed him. Now I just stare at him.

“Why are you here, Baz?”

He thinks to himself for a second, I don’t think he knows. I don’t think he knows what he’s doing at all. But for once I know what I’m going to do.

 Cause people like you always want back what they can't have

But I'm past that and you know that

So you should turn back to your rat pack tellin' 'em trash

 “Baz, you should go.”

“But-”

“As long as you’re fine and you’re not driving, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Wow. I didn’t think I could ever do that. He was so gorgeous, Merlin, he probably would’ve let me kiss him.

The next few days are kind of a blur. The weekend flies by and then it’s just work, uni and sleep. That last one is a lie, I don’t sleep very well. I want to say it’s uni stress or its work or something, but I know… I know its Baz.

When Penny starts mumming me about the bags under my eyes and my slumped shoulders, I blurt out a line about how crazy my classes have been, but she just nods knowingly. I can’t keep anything from her.

“Si?” I hear Penny say a bit hesitantly. Penelope Bunce is not hesitant.

I look up at her, confused.

“Have you spoken to Baz recently? Have you been texting him?” I’m sure she doesn’t mean to sound like she’s accusing me of something, but I can’t help but feel like I’m being interrogated. I haven’t spoken to Baz since he showed up at my door on Friday night. Penny doesn’t know about that though; she’d freak out.

“No.” I don’t trust myself to say anymore.

“I just overheard Baz today. He was… you know what never mind, as long as you know what you’re doing. As long as you’re okay.” Penny’s waving her hands at me like she wants me to forget what she just said but there’s no magic in her words so its only bothering me.

“What, Penny? What did he say?” it comes off too eager. But I am! Eager, that is. What is that git saying about me?

 Tell all of your friends that I'm crazy and drive you mad

That I'm such a stalker, a watcher, a psychopath

 “He was just saying that you’ve been pestering him to get back together, that you drunk texted him on Friday or something of the sort. And then he… yeah.”

“Then he what?”

“It doesn’t matter Simon. You’re both still just angry. Basil doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

“And what is he saying? Apart from the fact that I’m basically stalking him. That dickhead needs to get over himself, it’s the other way around by the way. He showed up here! Drunk! On Friday!” I’m yelling now. Whatever, it’s better than crying. I wish I could cry right now.

 And tell 'em you hate me and dated me just for laughs

So, why do you call me and tell me you want me back?

You maniac

 “He said he doesn’t know why he ever dated you.”

“Oh.” And then I am crying. Penny is instantly holding me, patting my hair, kissing my temples, telling me he doesn’t mean it, but I just shrug her off and go to bed.

____________

Thursday 27/10

Pen [15:22]: you okay?

Pen [15:30]: Simon we live in the same flat and I’ve seen you like twice this week.

Pen [15:54]: can we have dinner together at least? Just us at the flat. No you know who talk I promise.

Read 16:03

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Thursday 27/10

Ags [16:15]: trust me I’m all for the privacy/alone time thing. But like??? Were here for u. just call me yeah?

Read 16:17

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I get a whole bunch of texts from everyone. Well Agatha and Penny and a few uni mates (that’s everyone), a bunch of angry messages from my manager because I took the week off and some emails from my professors about assigned work. Honestly, I’m not sure what I’m doing or what I want. No, again, a lie. I’m doing nothing and I want Baz. But I guess now that we’re not dating, he has no reason to not be a prat again. So, really, I should have no reason to want him back. Except I do.

I want his black wavy hair to be the first thing I see in the morning again. I want to wake up to the sound of the kettle boiling and warmth beside me where he spent the night. I want to go for walks at 3 am because we both couldn’t sleep. I want cold lips smashing into my face after a stupid fight about throwing my stuff around his flat. I want him. Here. Now. That’s not what you need though, I can here Penny say it in head. Though I’m sure it is; I don’t think I’ve functioned normally since this happened.

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Saturday 29/10

Dickheadwhoregretsdatingme???? [21:43]: Snow I swear I wouldn’t contact you if it weren’t important, but this is and yeah sorry.

Read 21:43

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And then he calls.

“Simon?” I melt into my phone a little, I miss the sound of my name on his lips. He doesn’t sound drunk, but he does sound different. “I’m so sorry I just, it all happened so fast and now I’m calling you because I can’t call my parents or they’ll kill me and my friends, they’re bloody useless. Aleister Crowley, I’m so sorry.”

“Baz, what’s happened?” How am I the calm one? What in the world of mages is happening?

“I crashed my car.” He’s calmed down now.

“Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? Are you alone? Are you okay?” Suddenly any semblance of calm is gone and replaced with unmoderated anxiety. He knows I fucking love him. Merlin and Morgana, why would I hide it now.

 You just went too far

Wrecked your car, called me cryin' in the dark

Now you're breakin' my heart

 “I’m fine. I’m sorry I don’t know why I called.”

“You don’t sound fine.” And then because I have no self-control, “Where are you?” There’s a brief silence. Fine don’t tell me.

“I’m at the corner of Smith and Dundas.” He sounds ashamed.

“That’s at the top of my street.”

“Yeah.”

And, again with the no self-control, “I’m coming.” I hang up before he can argue with me.

I don’t get a chance to l look at myself. I know I’m wearing mismatched socks and the same joggers I’ve been wearing all week. I look down and realise I’m wearing Baz’s old t-shirt. How fitting. I’m throwing on some trainers and I can hear Penny asking where the hell I’m going so late. I don’t care.

It’s only a five-minute walk but even that is too long, so before I know it, I’m running to his car. It’s been backed out from the light post I assume he hit and parked a bit lazily by the pavement. Baz doesn’t do anything lazily, but then again Baz doesn’t get drunk and he doesn’t crash his car and he definitely doesn’t drive anywhere near here if he doesn’t have to.

As I get closer, I can feel my heart beating faster and faster, and its not from the running. His head is resting on the steering wheel and I can’t see his face. Fuck. What if he has a concussion? And then without thinking I’m opening the right car door and holding his face so close to mine. Crowley, his eyes are blood-shot, his face is streaked with tears and he’s just looking at me fangs popped and eyes wide. How could I ever let him go, I should’ve fought harder.

“Snow.” He finally croaks out and that’s when I realise, he’s been sobbing, he takes a deep breath and buries his head into my neck all while whispering sorry, I don’t know why I called, you don’t need to be here, but he makes no effort to remove himself from me, so I don’t leave. I wouldn’t anyway.

 So, I show up at your place right away

Wipe the tears off of your face

While you beg me to stay

 I detangle his hair as I feel the pool of tears forming on my shoulder. I pull him up to look into his eyes. Baz’s eyes, so grey, they’ve always been so beautiful. His cheekbones are pronounced and his flushed – he must’ve fed recently. That’s good.

“Are you okay?” I ask and it feels like it’s all I’ve been saying to him for weeks now.

“Been better.” He tries to smile but his eyes betray him, and he starts tearing up again. He brings a hand to my cheeks, “you’re here.” He seems to realise what he’s doing, how he’s holding me, how I’m holding him while were broken up, so he tries to pull his hand away quickly, but I stop him.

“Of course.”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #250

"you’re so pretty, dripping sin.”

Do you plan on having children in the future? No. How big is your house? It's very small. Two bedroom, one bathroom. Do you believe that the world will actually end? Humanity, yes. The planet being inhabitable, probably at some point. The universe itself, life itself, won't, though. Describe your handwriting: Very fancy/fluid, a weird mix of cursive and print. Can you speak any other languages than your first language? Some German, but not a lot by now. I've lost a lot of memory of it. If you could speak another, which would it be? I wanna be fluent in German, but it's not something I pursue 'cuz I guess like... why. I don't think I'll ever really apply it to my life, nor is it something I'm DYING to do, so paying for classes just seems. Idk. What is one trend you think is stupid? I don't care. Let people enjoy things. Do you ever watch any soap operas? No. Do you ever get goodnight or good morning texts from people? Not usually. If I do, it's only ever Sara. When did you last go to the doctor and what for? I'm assuming you mean a general doctor, in which case, I think it was just a regular check-up a month or so back. Are you socially awkward? To a painful degree that I'm incredibly sick of. Can't be in a social situation and not feel uncomfortable even if it saved my ass. Would you rather watch a comedy movie or horror movie? It would depend on my mood, but horror would usually win. Do you know where your family came from? Europe. If you could choose to be any mythical character, which would you choose? Realistically, probably like, an elf or something 'cuz they're pretty unlike me so it'd be a nice change. :^) Where are both of your parents right at this moment? Mom's at church, and Dad is probably at home 'cuz it's Sunday. Have you ever seen a movie so ridiculous you couldn’t watch the rest? Yep. Does it make you angry when people text short messages back? If I'm seriously trying to have a conversation, it doesn't make me *angry*, just aggravated. What is your favorite animal and why? Meerkats. I could write a damn essay on why, but I'm not up for it, so basically, they are just extremely interesting animals with serious fire in a foot-tall body. Are you satisfied with your gender? Yeah. Have you ever kept a successful diary before? Not really. Well, I guess for short periods of time. I'd call them just "journals," though. It was something to do every time I stayed in the hospital, a good, insightful thing even, and just really at my lowest times, it helped me, but I never stuck to it. Are you good at admitting your problems? I think I'm very honest about them, really. Have you ever had a hangover? No. What is something you’re looking for in the next three months? I don't know. What’s something you normally cannot spell on your own? I have trouble with certain words where "e" or "a" could both easily be used (ex., "independEnce"), so I rely on spellcheck with words like those a lot. Looks or personality? Which is more important to you? Personality. Do you know any strippers? I don’t think so. How many times have you dyed your hair? Holy fuck idk. What is something that reminds you of your childhood? Cranium games. Do you think you eat healthy? I think I eat decently. Since I started paying attention to calories, I improved a lot. How would you describe your style of speech? Are you a fast/slow speaker? Do you stutter often? Generally, I think I speak quietly (but sometimes actually too loud, according to Mom) at a pretty normal pace, sometimes kinda fast, but I stutter a lot. When was the last time you’ve visited a family member’s house? What was the occasion? I haven't been to anyone's in a while... I think the last time was when I went to Ashley's to babysit my nephew a few months ago. Have you ever tried to construct a language? How do you feel about fictional languages (such as Dothraki and Klingon)? Not really. One of my old RP friends and I kinda-sorta had this "ancient meerkat language," but it was faaaar from developed. I don't feel any particular way about fake languages. Were you born and raised into a certain religion? What was it and have you changed your religion? Yes, Roman Catholicism. I've changed my religion quite a few times... Well, I don't like "changed." It just developed away from what was instilled in my head as a little kid. How do you usually feel when one of your favorite television or book series end? This doesn't apply to me really, because I haven't been involved in those things for a long time. The only one that I really cared about/was watching when it was current content was Meerkat Manor. I was sooooo so bummed out. That show had such, such, SUCH a colossal impact on my life. What do you like most about your town or neighborhood? Nothing. Well, it's small. Are you looking forward to any upcoming events? I'm obviously anticipating Mom starting chemo this week, but also very nervous. I don't want to see the physical toll it takes on her. What were your first impressions on your current best or closest friend? Lmao it's still funny to this day to me, our start... I just didn't like her. I thought she was over-dramatic and attention-crazed. What would you do if you knew a person that you were not fond of or even disliked, but they considered you as a friend? Would you confront them, avoid them, etc.? "I wouldn’t confront them unless something happened that made it come to a head. I’d try to be civil yet non-committal. It would also depend how I knew them and how much I had to interact with them." <<<< This. It doesn't seem necessary to just randomly walk up to this person and be like "hey you know you're not my friend, right?" Just leave it be unless something occurs where it seems more relevant. What are some things that you do to make you feel relaxed? Listen to music, nap... How often to do go to concerts? What was your favorite experience so far? Not even nearly enough because 1.) I'm not in a position where I can afford tickets and 2.) NO good bands like, ever come here. We only ever have country bands. The only concert I've been to was Alice Cooper, which was great. What is your newest and/or current passion? Newest, uhhhh. Idk man. I have a lot of current passions, but none surpass the Blazing Inferno of Love in my heart for Mark Edward Fischbach. Do you still have a fear that you had held since childhood? If not, how did you overcome one or more of your childhood fears? Yes, dolls. It's really mild now, but still, I really don't like porcelain dolls. What is your favorite type of weather? In general, a moderate snow. To actually be in, ohhhh man, gimme that cool, crisp fall air with a partly cloudy sky, very little to no breeze, depending on how cool it is. Do you watch documentaries? If so, do you have a particular favorite? I love animals docs. Meerkat Manor is of course my favorite. Is there a particular sentence or line from a book that carries a deep meaning to you? What is that sentence/line and why does it speak to you? I'm sure there is, but none immediately come to mind. When's the last time you ate bread? A couple days back for a sandwich. What's the last movie you watched on your own? UHHHHHHHH I think it was The Shining. Great movie, so glad I finally watched it. What about the last movie you watched with another person? Now this I'm unsure about, but I want to say The Lion King (live action) with Dad. What about the last movie you saw at the cinema? Was it good? ^ It was fucking great. I mean maybe I'm biased because it's my favorite movie, but either way, the hate it got shocked me. I know people were upset about like "oh they looked so emotionless" but like... they're animals made in the most realistic portrayal possible. I thought that was very cool. Do you attend school, college, or uni? I'm a college student. What do you study, wherever you study? Photography. What industry do you want to be a part of when you’re older? At least SOMETHING with art, or even animal rescue and conservation. How many girls can you trust? Like, two. What about guys? Also probably two, maybe three. How do you earn your keep? I don't. I don't/can't work (at least right now) and my disability case was just denied for the second time, so, y'know, I'm basically a leech. If you could speak three different languages fluently, what would they be? Not including English? German, Japanese, and Spanish, for convenience's sake. Who do you usually text the most? My mom or Sara. Baths or showers? Showers; baths gross me out. Cheese or tomato? Noooot a tomato fan, so. At least I like some cheese. Shaved legs or shaved arms? ??? I mean I think shaving your legs is more noticeable, but I don't care. I'd only ever shave my legs (I mean unless I had a good reason to shave my arms?), but shave whatever you want, dude. How many coats do you own? One winter coat. What about shoes? A handful, though I only ever wear my sneakers or flip-flops, lol. One word to describe your most recent ex? A soldier. Fried, poached, boiled or scrambled eggs? I will only ever fully eat scrambled eggs. Boiled, I'll only eat the whites. Fuck yolk, shit's gross. Have you ever been surprised with breakfast in bed? No. Where, in your current cournty, would you like to live, other than where you do now? Western NC, in the mountains. It's beautiful. Where wouldn’t you want to live? Several places, like North Korea. Do you like snow? I'm a kid when it comes to snow, I love it. Have you always got good grades? Up until college, I did... Do you like sheer clothing? With something under it, yes. List four things about your facial appearance: 1.) It's this really weird mix of dry as hell and oily; 2.) I have blue/gray eyes; 3.) I wear large, black-rimmed glasses; and 4.) I have a vertical labret in my bottom lip. List four things about your general appearance: 1.) I'm fat even though I've worked my fucking ass off to keep losing weight for two years now :^); 2.) I have some but certainly not enough tattoos and piercings; 3.) I'm very pale; and 4.) I have very short, brown hair that needs to be dyed immediately. List four things you like about yourself: 1.) I'm extremely empathetic; 2.) I care a fucking LOT about the people I love; 3.) I'd say I let myself fall kinda easily, yet I'm resilient as shit and will always get back up; and 4.) I'm extremely open-minded and capable of considering a whole lot. List four things you dislike about yourself: 1.) MY GOTDAMN WEIGHT; 2.) my teeth are too yellow for my liking (I've been exceptionally self-conscious of that lately as I've used whitening strips); 3.) I'm extremely impulsive with what I say and do when I'm seriously upset; and 4.) I will, without fail, jump to the worst possible conclusion in any and all situations. List four of your favorite TV programs: 1.) Meerkat Manor; 2.) That '70s Show; 3.) Fullmetal Alchemist (+Brotherhood); and 4.) Deadman Wonderland. List four of your favorite foods/drinks: 1.) Mountain Dew Voltage is my absolute worst enemy; 2.) I will ANNIHILATE the spicy shrimp fritas from Olive Garden; 3.) the shrimp & cheese quesadillas from Mexican restaurants are not safe either; and 4.) pizza is, of course, rather gucci. Cats or dogs? Idk, I really like both. Have you ever seen anyone famous in the street? Hunty I live in NC, that doesn't happen here. Are you hungry right now? No. What do you think of couples who have entire albums just for them, with pictures of them just randomly at home, doing nothing that really requires a photo? Dude, I love that. Cherish every moment with each other. Make memories, freeze them in pictures. Can you work the microwave? Well, considering it's the only thing I cook in and we've had the same one my entire life (ours is extremely old/can't be bought anymore and is SERIOUSLY durable with time, apparently, as it works perfectly), I know it well. Can you work the washing machine? Heh. Not really... embarrassing as that is. My mom does both of our laundry together, so... but I should seriously still know. She's shown me a few times, but with how abominably horrid my memory is, I forget again and again. There's too many options. Do you like your photo being taken? NO. Have you ever got into a club, whilst being underage? Never been to a club period. How many magazines do you buy a month? None. How many of them are car-related? "If I did, they certainly wouldn’t be car related. That doesn’t interest me at all." <<<< Big same. What about fashion? Well, I'd like ones that offered alternative clothing choices that you could order. Any celeb gossip ones? Ew. What pets do you have? We're about to have only two: my snake Venus and cat Roman. With Mom's cancer diagnosis and both chemo and surgery coming along, she simply can't handle our dumb dog anymore. He's needed to go for a LONG time, so we're trying to find a new home for him. Last gig you went to? Still Alice Cooper. Next gig your going to? Should Ozzy still have his concerts like he wants to after his treatments in Sweden or wherever it is, most likely him. Mom and I planned to, and we will absolutely go if he reinstates them. I'm completely understanding if this doesn't happen though; he has to take care of himself, the poor 'ole man. Bless him. Life's a cruel bitch, giving a legendary singer Parkinson's (it's going to disable him from singing with time). Favorite color? Pink! o: Are you regularly tired? Only always, my friend. Are you excited to live on your own? Completely alone, no. I know it would be extremely unhealthy for me with depression and becoming so easily lonely and unmotivated without encouragement and companionship of some sort. I'll have to live with a spouse. Even then, I'm nervous about it. Living with Jason and our friends in that apartment was both a good and very bad experience; it taught me a good deal of independence, but I still found it very stressful. When do you plan on moving out? When I've been in a long-term, healthy relationship. Do you daydream? Only all the time. Do you dream at night? More like have nightmares/terrors almost nightly. BUT! They've actually chilled some the past few days!! I don't recall what the dream was (but I'm 90% sure Mark was in it, A SHOCKER), but I woke up laughing hysterically recently, Mom told me. So that could only be a good sign. When you’re sick, do you like to be pampered, or left alone? A mix, but mostly the former honestly. Halp pls. But I also want my time to sleep. Are you superstitious? Nope. How many pictures are in your wallet? Ohhh I'm actually not sure. I know I have a handful of my nieces and nephews. I need one of Emerson now. If someone cries while watching a sad movie..do you laugh at them? ???? That is so insensitive???? No???? How often do you change your sheets? I'm... not sure, actually? I know at LEAST once a month (which probably isn't enough), but possibly another time? Idk, I don't pay attention. I just do when I feel it's time to. Is you bedroom upstairs or down? We only have one floor. Is it true blood is thicker than water? Nope. If you could wish someone out of your life... who would it be? Well, he's not *literally* a part of it, but Jason, as far as in my head. Remembering him, sudden memories, flashback prompts, all that jazz are very much daily events. Truly, it doesn't *really* affect me much anymore, it's just so "normal," but it would certainly be grand if he wasn't the most staple person in my head. If you could be with anyone in the world..famous or not..who would it be? HUNNY SWEET CHILD- Are you high maintenance? Nope. If you could change one thing in the world... what would it be? PEACE. JUST PEACE. No war, no violence in general, just. Handle shit like mature adults. If you could star in any movie... which would it be? None. I'm too self-conscious of myself to be in a movie, and I'm a horrible and extremely awkward actress. If you could live in a fairy tale..which would it be? "Alice in Wonderland." <<<< 100% 100% 100%. If you could live in the past..where would it be? The '80s, baby!! If you could see only one person right now..who would it be? Ugh, Sara. I've missed her to death and desperately wanna hang out. Do you wear shoes in the house? No sir. Do you dream in color or black and white? YO! I only recently learned this is a thing with some people, but I dream in color. What is your favorite accent? British. Do you write poetry/songs/stories? Poetry, occasionally. Stories, well, you could easily consider RP that, as we're all collaboratively writing many. Do you wear socks with sandals? gtfo of here with that shit Would you marry for money? HA, no. Do you have any “in the mood” music you like to listen to? AHAHA YES I'M SORRY. Would you vote for a woman president? "If she was a good candidate in my own personal opinion, yeah." <<<< "This. I want to vote for someone who I feel can do the best job. Their gender has nothing to do with it." <<<< Ditto. Are looks/appearances really important? For me personally, not really. Like yes, it's nice to feel physical attraction towards your love interest, but it's a very, very little factor for me, if at all. When you die, do you want to be cremated or buried? Please just cremate me. I really don't wanna be buried. Just taking up space. Do you like to play video games? Yeah, but not as much as I used to, though I wish I did... I think I've watched way too many let's plays to where I can enjoy just fine watching YTers I like experience the game, and I do secondhand while getting some good laughs. Do you like Final Fantasy? Which one do you prefer of all? Oh my god, I wish I was more involved in that series, as I know how madly beloved it is. I used to be obsessed with the demo for FFVIII; my sister, brother, and I would play it like mad, but only Bobby could beat it. The final spider-like boss of the demo was fuckin impossible. I did play a lot of FFVII, which I adored, it was just... so long and by maybe over halfway through, I just drifted from it. I need to watch a playthrough of it, honestly, because the story was so captivating and I genuinely would love to witness how it ends. Have you ever caught on fire? WOW no thank fuck. Do you have a YouTube channel? Yeah, but I don't really make stuff anymore. I don't have Vegas on this computer and honestly I'm just not motivated to really make videos. Do you ever go to video game arcades? No. :( Do you care what people think of you? In most cases, VERY MUCH. Not always, though, but it STRICTLY depends on the situation, big time. Like, I'll walk into Wal-Mart in my pj's np, but there are just a lot of things where I will seriously care too much. Have you ever had a crush on a teacher? No. I had one teacher that ALL the girls thought was super attractive, but I definitely didn't have a crush on him... and then later he got fired for sexual relations with one of the students. OOF. Do you like Lady Gaga? I don't mind her, usually. She's got some good jams. "Bad Romance" is legendary. Do you think you have been in love before? Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaadly in love, friends. Do you like Edgar Allan Poe? Love him! Have you ever gotten hit on by some creeper? Oh god yeah and it was awful. Do you bless random people when they sneeze? Yep. Do you have a short temper? No. Have you ever had a yard sale? Yes. Do you go to Barnes and Noble for books, the library or someplace else? I go to Books-A-Million. Do you have an iPad? Nope. Are you scared to die? Yes and no. It's the unknown of what comes after that makes me apprehensive. Do you go to church every Sunday? I never go. Do you think you draw well? I honestly think I draw decently. Have you ever wanted to be a meteorologist? No. Do you like Taylor Swift? Not really, and DEFINITELY not newer stuff, but I will rock hardcore to "Picture To Burn," "Safe and Sound" is positively beautiful, and "Love Story" used to be my favorite song at one point.

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

New fic!! The original idea was for a steamy one-shot gift fic for the wonderful @krisrix but the plot ran away with me and it’s now a full-blown multi-chapter fic. Updates will hopefully be on a regular basis. 

Hope you like it @krisrix! I”ve been meaning to write you something ever since you created that amazing art for Can’t Find My Way Home! 

Behind Closed Doors

Baz

I can’t get out of David Mage’s office fast enough. I thought weekly one-on-one meetings with him were torture but now he’s moved them up to twice a week, as we reach the end of year, and it’s simply excruciating.

I hate him. I hate this job. I’ve come to despise working at Watford, which breaks my heart. But I won’t leave. I’m going to stay the course and I’ll be damned if I don’t outlast Mage here.

My mother started this company. This is her legacy and I won’t let that pompous bastard ruin it.

He’s doing his best to do just that. The numbers bear that out. Month after month I’ve been trying to communicate to him what a disaster his policies are. How they’re actually weakening the company. He just spouts some drivel about “fresh starts ”and “thinking outside the box” and then the phrase I absolutely abhor: “take it to the next level.”

I damn near leveled him when he said that today.

Father still sits on the Board of Directors but it hasn’t been much help. Somehow the rest of the Board has morphed into collection of lackeys for Mage; sycophants, supporters, cronies. It’s sickening. I think the only reason Father still has a seat is because he started Watford with Mother. They can’t vote him out.

At least I don’t think they can.

I’m storming down the corridor to get to the blessed isolation of my office when a voice calls out behind me.

“Baz!”

I can’t deal with Snow right now. I really can’t. I quicken my pace but the wanker just speeds up to catch me. Literally. He actually tugs at my sleeve.

I stop and level a glare at him. “What do you want, Snow? Some of us have work to do to keep this company afloat.”

Simon Snow is Mage’s personal assistant. His right hand man. His closest confidant and staunchest supporter. His jack of all trades.

I wish I could hate him as much as I hate Mage. I’ve tried.

I’m stupid enough to have fallen in love with him instead. It’s a cross I have to bear, but at this moment being in his presence after that disastrous meeting is almost more than I can handle.

“You haven’t sent in an RSVP for the Christmas party yet. I need to send the final number to the caterer today. I’ve sent you three emails about it, Baz.”

I arch my brow and give Snow my iciest sneer. “As if I have time to read frivolous emails about social gatherings. It’s end of year, Snow. The busiest time for the financial department, which you should know. Happens this time every year.”

“Christmas comes this time each year,” Snow mumbles.

Did he really just quote the Beach Boys most idiotic lyric at me? It shouldn’t surprise me that Snow likes that utterly insipid Christmas song. It’s absolutely endearing that he does.

I harden my heart against his charm.

“Yes, Snow. I’m quite aware. End of year financial accounting also comes this time each year and that’s rightfully occupying far more of my attention than the utterly useless Christmas party you’re harping about.”

He looks hurt. I internally curse myself. It’s not Snow’s fault I’m in this mood. It’s not Snow’s fault that he’s in charge of the dreaded Watford annual Christmas party. It’s not Snow’s fault I’m in love with him.

Actually, that last one is entirely Snow’s fault. He can’t walk around this place with that riot of disheveled bronze curls, the constellations of moles and freckles on his tawny skin, that bloody dimple on his left cheek when he smiles, his distressingly charming personality, completely unwarranted kindness, and expect me not to fall recklessly, hopelessly in love with him.

I’m so weak for this boy.

I soften my voice. “Listen, Snow. I know you’re putting all your energy into the party right now. I’m putting all mine to the financials.” I take a breath. I can do this. “I’m sorry I haven’t responded to your emails.”

Simon perks right back up at my apology. “That’s alright, Baz. I know how stressful end of year is for you. That’s why I emailed, so you could get back to me when you had a free moment.” He glances back towards Mage’s office. “I should have known better than to run you down after a meeting with Mr. Mage.”

Two years working here and he still calls him Mr. Mage. It’s ludicrous. And that bastard never corrects him. It’s some hierarchy, respect bullshit. It’s not like Snow doesn’t know Mage well enough to call him David.

He’s Mage’s pet project. Scholarship student out of the care home system and under Mage’s tutelage for years at that small university Mage worked at before he inflicted himself upon us here at Watford.

Corporations don’t function like universities though and Mage’s management here is a testament to that. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’d come to Watford to purposely run us into the ground.

Perhaps he has. I wouldn’t put it past him.

Snow is still looking at me, likely waiting for a response. Instead I let my mind wander, like I usually do when I am confronted with him.

I have to, for self-preservation. Being near Snow is like being caught in a tractor beam, like he’s the sun and I’m crashing into him. It’s why I try to avoid him at all costs. He’s too distracting.

I’m doing it again.

“So, shall I put you down as a yes, then, Baz?”

“Yes, fine, whatever.” I’m pathetic. I hate the party. I only go because I know how much work Snow puts into it and because he looks so damn good in a suit.

“And shall I put a plus-one?”

“What?”

“Are you bringing a date?”

Bollocks. This is why I should have answered his email. To avoid awkward questions like this. To avoid inadvertently saying something monumentally stupid like “you can be my plus-one, Simon.”

“Ah, no, no, just me.”

“Right, then.” Snow beams at me. “I’ll mark you down for one. We’ve still got a spot open at our table. I’ll put you with us.”  His smile grows even wider. “Saturday at seven. At the Club. I’ll see you there, Baz.”

He nods and then scurries back down the hallway towards Mage’s office.

Fuck. How am I going to get through an entire evening at the same table as Snow?

Simon

I really should know better than to interrupt Baz when he’s in a snit and storming down the hallway from Mage’s office.

If it weren’t for the fact that he’s always in a snit after a meeting with Mage.

I know they don’t get on. It’s too bad really. Watford’s a family thing for Baz. But it still must be hard to see someone else in his mother’s place. In her office. Running her company.

I’m not sure I agree with all of Mage’s policies either. I know he was the dean at the school but I uni isn't like the corporate world.

Sometimes I wish I didn’t work here, with him. I mean, I know it’s a good job, with solid prospects, a good salary, stable environment. But I’m not using my degree here, am I?

I double majored in Sociology and Human Resources. I’m actually overqualified to be a personal assistant, but here I am planning Christmas parties and managing Mage’s schedule.

I owe him. For a lot of things. Getting me out of the care home system. Supporting me for that scholarship to the private secondary school that paved my way to getting into uni. Being my mentor at uni. Hiring me when he got this job.

It’s quite a lot. I can’t just walk away from this. I like Watford. I like what they do here. I like the values this company has. Or had, I suppose. Things are changing quite a bit under Mage.

He’s the one who would write a reference for me, if I left. Which is why I don’t dare leave. I’m not sure he wouldn’t consider it a betrayal. He’s funny that way. Very focused on loyalty and allegiance. Everything seems to boil down to “us and them” with him. He and I are the “us” and it seems everyone else is the “them.”

Particularly Baz and his father. The other long-term Watford employees. Half the Board.

Well, less than half now. A fair number have ‘retired’ and been replaced with people who are friends with Mage.

I didn’t think that’s how Boards worked. Maybe I’m just naïve.

I can’t let myself think about all that. I just have to concentrate on doing my job and doing it well.

I’m glad I caught Baz, even if he was in a mood.

I think he’s always in a mood. Two years I’ve been here and Baz is still an enigma to me. I’ve asked Penny about him. She’s been here longer than I have. She just says he’s brilliant and a tosser and that I should let him be.

Easier said than done.

There’s something fascinating about Baz. It’s not just that he’s fit either.

He’s quite fit.

But he’s intriguing as a person, not just because of how he looks. He’s young to be the CFO of a corporation the size of Watford. I know he was top of his class at LSE. Brilliant financial mind, could have had any job he wanted but he wanted to work here. With his mother. So, he started in the financial department and worked his way up.

Penny told me he’d just been promoted to CFO when the accident happened. It was a bad multiple car pileup on the M5. Baz actually passed by it on his way home that night. I can’t imagine how that must have felt. Seeing that car, knowing it was his mother’s.

I don’t know how he came back to work here, after that.

But he did. Agatha says he’s much more withdrawn since then. He used to be a bit more social, would occasionally go out to lunch with people, sometimes even to the pub for drinks after work.

Not now.

Baz comes in early, goes home late. He’s rarely out of his office unless it’s to lead a department meeting or meet with Mage. I think he even eats in there.

I’ve tried to get to know him. Hasn’t gone too well. I mean we’ve talked, of course, but not much more than that. Not for lack of trying on my part though.

I plan the corporate activities—the Christmas party, the summer soiree at the Club, periodic department morale boosters and whatnot. Retirement parties, new employee meet and greets. All sorts of events.

Baz rarely goes to any of them. I mean, he comes to the Christmas party every year and the summer event, but it’s more like he makes an appearance. Shows up, has a drink, shakes some hands with Board members and then buggers off.

I don’t know why I’m so determined to be friends with him. Penny says I’m obsessed. I disagree.

I think it’s just that he seems lonely and that bothers me.

I know how that feels.

Baz

The only diversion at the Christmas party this year has been Snow. He spent the first hour rushing around, talking to the caterer, having a word with the DJ, sorting some table seating mishap. We were well into the dessert course before he finally sat down.

In the open seat next to me.

I’d planned to leave after dessert, make my cursory rounds with the Board members and then scuttle out of here before anyone noticed. It’s still my plan, but having Snow seated next to me is definitely putting a wrench in the works.

I go to such lengths to avoid proximity to him. But having him so near, being able to look at him up close—it’s mesmerizing.

I practically swoon when his knee inadvertently bumps mine under the table. He’s left-handed so we end up knocking our hands together as he eats his food. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Snow eat before. He does it with a gusto, determination and rapidity that’s breath-taking. I think he ate every remaining roll in the bread basket. And he took my butter. Not that I was planning on eating it but still. I don’t think he’s quite aware of plate assignments at formal table settings.

Or he just loves butter.

From the way he slathered it on his roll I’m going to assume it’s the latter.

He’s also hitting the wine fairly hard. We have a few bottles at our table but Bunce and Wellbelove have only had a glass each. I’ve sipped at mine. I don’t think Rhys drinks and Gareth has a whiskey by him.

Snow’s on his third glass by the time the DJ starts playing and the dance floor begins to fill.

I think he’s well on the way to being pissed. He hurried off to hand over a check to the caterer but it appears he took a detour to the bar. Snow’s back and he’s got a drink in each hand.  

“Here.” He hands me one.

I shake my head. “Sorry, Snow. One glass limit for me tonight. I’m driving.”

His face falls for a moment but then he shakes his head and beams at me. “More for me then, I suppose.”

“Simon.” Bunce is seated on his other side. “I don’t think you need two Mojitos.” She commandeers the one intended for me and passes it off to Wellbelove.

Wellbelove just shrugs and takes it.

“I think I’m entitled to as many Mojitos as I please.” Snow leans back in his chair and proceeds to down his entire drink.

“What’s brought this on?” Bunce asks, placing a hand on his shoulder. She darts a concerned look in my direction.

As if I would have any idea why Snow has decided to drown his sorrows in rum. It’s a tempting idea to follow suit except for the fact that I despise rum.

And I hate being drunk. Hate the loss of control, the giddiness, the way I find myself saying things that absolutely should not be said. That would be a disaster here, with Snow at my side.

Who knows what nonsense I would start spouting about the blue of his eyes or the light glinting in his bronze curls. I’d never live it down. I’d die of mortification on the spot.

I’ll stick to one glass of wine and then a lonely drive home to end my night curled up with a good book.

Of course, that’s not what happens.

What happens is that Snow continues to drink. Profusely.

Wellbelove offers to take him home when she leaves but he waves her away. Bunce tries to be more forceful with him but he’s having none of her bossiness tonight (Bunce is a force of nature) (I’m secretly relieved I don’t have to interact with her department often).

“I can’t leave, Penny. Not until everyone else packs it up. I’ve got to pay the DJ and make sure everyone’s got a ride home. It’s my job.” Snow’s explaining this to her, with his hands on her shoulders and an adorably earnest expression on his face.

“Yes, I know that, Simon. Perhaps that would have been a good reason not to make so many trips to the bar, now wouldn’t it?”

He laughs. It comes out as a bark, nothing like Snow’s usual laugh. I take a closer look at him. There’s a hint of desperation behind the forced cheerfulness. I hadn’t noticed it before. Something’s bothering Snow, enough to make him behave this way, so out of character for him.

“It’s alright, Penny. I’ll be fine. It’s not like I don’t know how to handle my liquor. Better than most.”

“That’s not the point, Simon.” Bunce groans. She looks at her watch again. “I need to go. I’ve got to get to the airport early tomorrow morning.” She tugs at his sleeve.

Bunce’s boyfriend lives in America. I don’t know how they manage this long-distance relationship of theirs but I do know there’s a lot of flying back and forth for holidays.

I step closer to them and then, even though I’ve just had the one drink, I find myself saying something absolutely rash. “I’ll drive him home, Bunce. You go on.”

They both turn to look at me, Bunce incredulous and Snow inordinately pleased. “There you go, Penny. Baz’ll get me home. You can count on Baz. That’s what he does all day, he counts things. Count on Baz. Baz’ll take care of me, Pen.”

Bunce rolls her eyes and then fixes me with a stern look. “Baz, so help me, you better get him home in one piece.”

I give her a bored look, hopefully masking the ridiculous way my heart is pounding at the thought that I’ll be watching over Snow and at the way he’s gazing at me right now.

Because he is. Gazing at me, I mean. Raptly, intently, fondly. I can’t quite wrap my head around his expression. I want him to look at me like that all the time.  

“Relax, Bunce. I’m quite sure I can handle getting one pleasantly drunk employee home.” I focus on Snow, who is literally beaming at me now. “As long as you remember where you live, Snow, we should be fine.”

“I’m pleasant now, am I?” Snow’s latched onto that unfortunate word choice of mine. I’m not even soused and I’ve already said too much. I am utterly pathetic.

Bunce shakes her head but leaves Snow in my tender care. She writes his address on a paper napkin and shoves it in my pocket before she goes, to his disapproval. “I know where I live, Pen. I’m not a complete idiot.”

She gives him an odd look, her gaze going back and forth between us thoughtfully. “I’m not so sure, Simon. I’m not so sure.” And then she leaves.

It takes a while to sort everything out. Snow has a check in his pocket for the DJ. He has a conversation with the Club manager about sending the bar bill to the office. He wanders around making sure there aren’t any purses or coats or belongings left behind, and then we finally make our departure.

He’s tipsy, that’s for certain, but I think Bunce was mistaken as to how drunk he is. Granted, he’s taken in a prodigious amount of liquor, but I think he’s got the right of it—he can handle the alcohol, better than I had assumed.  He’s uninhibited, that’s for certain, but he’s definitely not incoherent.

I input the address Bunce scribbled onto the napkin in my SatNav as Snow leans back in the passenger seat of my car, a sigh escaping him as he does.

“You alright, Snow?”

“Yeah.”

His eyes are closed. He looks tired. I haven’t put much thought into all he does, to make these parties go off without a hitch. He’s the one doing all the work, behind the scenes, but he certainly doesn’t get any credit for it.

I feel bad for snarling at him as much as I do.

“Are you sure?” Why am I still talking?

“Yeah, it’s just been a bit of rough night.”

“Why’s that? You pulled it off again. Lovely evening for all.”

He turns his head to the side and opens his eyes. “You really thought it was lovely?”

I don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight. My voice softens as I answer. “I do. You always do a wonderful job with these events, Snow. It’s a thankless job, I’m sure, but thank you for doing it.”

Snow’s smile is brilliant. I reluctantly turn my eyes back to the road. “Thanks, Baz. I wish everyone agreed with you.”

I frown. “I can’t think anyone would find much to criticize.” I give him a wry look. “Other than the DJ insisting on playing The Electric Slide.” I dare another sidelong glance at him. His grin is even wider now. “That needs to be on the no-play list.”

“Ah, come on, Baz. It got a lot of people on the dance floor.”

“Not me.”

“And what would get you on the dance floor? I didn’t see you out there at all tonight.”

My mouth is dry. I’m not prepared to have this type of conversation with Snow. It’s not intimate but it’s somehow far more personal than any we’ve had previously.

“I don’t dance.”

Snow snorts. Literally. “I don’t believe that for a minute.”

“And why not?”

I can’t help glancing at him again. He’s laser-focused on me as he answers, an intensity in his gaze that makes my skin tingle.  “You don’t move like someone who can’t dance.”

I swallow. This is definitely veering into intimate territory. I take a breath and answer him. “I didn’t say I couldn’t. I said I don’t. There’s a difference.”

“Ah. So what would it take for you to dance?”

“Nothing that comes to mind.”

“Hmm.”

We lapse into silence. We’re almost at Snow’s flat. I’m utterly failing at the witty banter. I’ve got Snow’s undivided attention and I can’t for the life of me come up with anything to say. It’s tragic, really.

I pull up in front of his building. There’s a spot conveniently open. I manoeuvre the car into the tight space and park. “Alright then, Snow?”

This smile of his is soft, not the heart-stopping brilliance of before. I think I love this one even more. It’s private, personal, like he’s saved it just for me. That’s a load of rubbish, I know, but I let myself believe it for a moment.

“Yes, thank you, Baz. Thanks for driving me home.” Snow’s made no move to unbuckle his seatbelt or get out of the car. He’s just contemplating me. Raptly.

It’s like staring into the sun. I can’t hold his gaze. I tap my fingers on the steering wheel, clear my throat and force my eyes away from him. “Alright, then.” Christ, now I’m repeating myself. Will the embarrassments of tonight never end?

He reaches out a hand and gently touches my forearm. It’s electric. I can feel the heat of it through the fabric of my suit. Then it’s gone and Snow is swiftly unbuckling his belt and making his way out of the car.  He leans into the open door. “See you Monday, Baz.” And then he’s gone, the door thudding closed behind him. He’s not the steadiest on his feet but he’ll do. He just needs to get in the building and up to his flat.

I stay parked anyway, to be certain he makes it in safely. It’s a good thing I do, because I can see the distress on his face a moment later. He’s patting down his pockets, face rapidly growing more alarmed as his search continues. He stares at the car, expression frantic now. I roll down the window. “What’s the problem?”

Simon rushes back, stumbling a bit as he does. “Baz. I can’t find my keys. I can’t find them anywhere.” He’s scrabbling in his pockets again—trousers, suit jacket, overcoat. His eyes meet mine. “Fuck. I must have dropped them at the Club.”

“Is there a spare set anywhere?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve been meaning to leave a set with Penny but I keep forgetting.”

Blast it. “Get in. We’ll head back to the Club. The cleaning crew should be there.”

The cleaning crew is not there. No one is. The Club is locked, dark and deserted. I’m a bit taken aback. You’d think they’d want the place cleaned up before the Sunday brunch crowd. I’m rethinking my whole attitude towards the place.

But that’s not helping with the Snow situation. “What am I going to do?” He’s got his hands in his hair, furiously pulling at his curls. “I can’t get into my building. I can’t call Penny—she’s got an early flight, I don’t dare wake her up.”

I make my decision. It’s a stupid, moronic, risky decision, but I’m tired and I’m besotted with this blasted boy and I can’t just leave him to his own devices, now can I? I told Bunce I’d take care of him and I damn well keep my promises. I can’t help the small sigh that escapes me. “You can come home with me, Snow. I’ve got a sofa you can use for the night. I’ll bring you round here in the morning so you can track down your keys.”

His hands drop to his sides and his red-rimmed eyes meet mine. “I’m sorry to be such a pain in the arse, Baz, really I am.” His brow furrows. “You can drop me off at a hotel or something. I’d hate to inconvenience you.”

I can’t help but frown back. “I am not having you spend the night in a hotel. I’ve got a perfectly serviceable sofa at my place. It’s not an inconvenience. It’s easier this way, truly. I can help you search for your keys tomorrow.”

His face softens to that fond look again and I’m wrecked. I can’t think when Snow looks at me like that. “Thanks, Baz. You’ve no idea how much I appreciate this. I feel like such a knobhead.”

I just nod at him. I don’t quite trust my voice at the moment. My heart is beating so rapidly that I swear he can hear it when he gets in the car.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. I’m fine. Snow’s fine.

Fuck. I most certainly am not fine. I’m going to have Simon Snow sleeping at my flat. It’s a fucking dream come true but not in the way I’d fantasized.

I’m simply helping him out. It’s just for one night. This means nothing.  

It means everything.

Christ, what am I even thinking? It can’t mean anything. Honestly, even if Snow were interested, which he’s certainly not, it’s against company policy. No fraternizing. No inter-office romances. Strictly off-limits, especially for one of the chief officers to potentially be involved with a subordinate.

It’s theoretically both an HR and Compliance violation, even if it’s not spelled out explicitly in the handbook.

It’s one of the reasons I’ve kept my distance from him. Not given in to the temptation to test the waters, see if he’s even remotely interested. Because it’s doomed from the start. I can’t date Snow. Not as long as he’s employed at Watford.

Snow’s still babbling rambling apologies to me. I let him. I’m too tired to argue and too overwhelmed to speak at the moment.

He falls silent by the time we pull into the parking garage at my building. He’s still a bit wobbly but not enough that I have to steady him, thank God. I don’t know what I’d do if I had him leaning into me right now.

I find out the answer to that question moments later as I fumble with my keys. My hands are shaking and it takes me a few tries to fit the key in the lock. Just enough time for Snow to slump against the wall and slide down to a seated position.

“No, Snow, what? Not here. We’re almost inside. Come on, now, get up.” He’s got his eyes closed.

“It’s spinning a bit, Baz.” The words are just a whisper.

“Bloody hell. You were fine just a minute ago. How much did you have to drink?”

He shakes his head and then stops with a moan, both hands going up to grip his temples. My eyes dart around the landing.  I need to get this idiot inside.

“I had a shot of whiskey when I went to get my coat, just before we left.”

“Snow, you are an absolute moron. What the hell has gotten into you tonight?”

“Mage.” It’s even quieter than before but I hear it.  It sears my heart. What did Mage do, to have Simon behave so out of character tonight?

It’s not something I’m going to delve into out here. Somehow, I’ve got to get him into my flat. I should be able to pry it out of him while I fetch him some water and paracetamol. He’ll definitely need both.

And pyjamas.

Blast it. I do not need the mental image of Snow wearing my pyjamas at this particular moment.

I shove the door open, drop my keys in my pocket and reach out a hand towards him. “Up, Snow.” He opens his eyes and stares at my hand. “Come on. Let’s get you inside. We can talk about whatever’s bothering you then, alright?” I’m using my gentlest voice, the coaxing one I used to use on my siblings when I’d try to get them to go to bed.

Snow reaches up and grips my hand and I haul him to his feet. He stumbles a bit and leans into me hard. I’m not expecting it and my arm involuntarily slides around his waist to steady him. We stagger into my flat, Snow a near dead weight in my arms. I manoeuvre him to the sofa where he’ll spend the night and he drops down heavily onto the cushions. The momentum drags me down as well.  

Snow slumps against the back of the sofa and I leap to my feet. “I’ll just be a moment.” I take my overcoat off and toss it on a chair before hurrying to the kitchen to fetch Snow some water. It takes me a few moments to hunt down the paracetamol. I rarely use it so I check the bottle to make sure it’s not expired. Thankfully, it’s not. I tuck the bottle in my pocket and head to my room for a pair of pyjamas.

I return to find Snow, head lolling back on the sofa, snoring gently. He’s ridiculous and entrancing and the line of his neck is utterly enthralling.  I can’t take my eyes off him.  I shake my head in irritation and raise my voice. “Snow. Wake up. You can’t sleep in your suit.”

His head bobs up and his eyes widen. It takes a moment for him to focus on me but when he does a smile lights up his face. “Baz.”

“Present and accounted, Snow. Now, sit up, that’s right. Time for some water or you’ll feel like absolute shite in the morning.” “Think I’m going to feel like that no matter what.”

“You’ll feel worse if you don’t do as I say. Now, come on, drink the water and then I need you to take some paracetamol for your head. It’s going to be pounding soon enough, I’m sure.”

Snow obediently takes the paracetamol and drinks most of the water. I scamper off to the kitchen to bring him another glass. He’s managed to stay awake this time. He blinks up at me. “Thanks, Bazy.”

That’s not going to do at all. I’m absolutely not going to tolerate nicknames from this intoxicated wanker.

“You do not get to call me that, Snow. Under no circumstances do I answer to nicknames.”

“Baz’s a nickname.” It comes out as a mumble.

I roll my eyes. “That’s my name, Snow. It’s not a nickname. It’s what everyone calls me.”

“Not your father. Not Mage. Call you Basilton, they do.”

“I am not going to engage in a debate about my name while you are inebriated. It’s one o’clock in the morning. Give it a rest.”

“Alright, Bazy.”

“Snow.” My voice has an edge to it. I don’t care how adorable he’s being at the moment. I simply cannot allow this.

“Hmm. How’s this then. I’ll stop the Bazy bit if you stop calling me Snow. M’ok?”

“What?”

“M’name’s Simon.”

“I’m aware.”

“Rather you call me that, than Snow.”

I sigh. “Fine, then. Simon. Are you happy now?”

He grins in response and then proceeds to slump further down. This won’t do at all. He’s still in his suit.

“Might need the loo.”

Of course, he needs to use the loo. I position myself in front of him and hoist him up. We lurch our way to the bathroom down the hall. I go in search of a spare pillow and blanket while Snow—er, Simon—uses the facilities. There’s some thumping and bumping, which is likely his attempt at getting out of his clothes and into the pyjamas I left with him. I can feel my face heat up. I’m going to leave him in his suit if he hasn’t managed to change out of it himself. There are some lines that simply can’t be crossed.

Simon’s somehow managed to get out of his suit and into my pyjamas and I can’t say that the sight of him in them doesn’t make my head spin. His clothing is scattered on the floor and over the side of the bathtub. I tut at him and gather it all up, hanging it in the hall closet once I get him situated on the sofa again.

“You need to drink more water, Simon.”

“I will if you sit with me a bit.”

I sit at the far end of the sofa, perched on the edge. Simon tilts his head in my direction, eyes heavy-lidded. “Thanks, Baz.”

“Drink your water.” He takes a few sips and then closes his eyes again. “What’s going on tonight, Simon? I’ve never seen you like this.”

He opens his eyes and regards me thoughtfully. “How would you know? You don’t really spend much time in my company do you, Baz?”

He’s right. I don’t. I observe him from a distance, taking note of every nuance of him, every facial expression, every burst of laughter. I’ve collected scraps of information about him from office gossip and the interactions we’ve had. I know him better than he thinks.

I’ve been to most of the corporate events since he started working here and I’ve never seen him behave in an inappropriate fashion. It’s not that he’s been behaving poorly tonight. It’s just so unlike him. “I know you take pride in what you do and you are usually impeccable in your behaviour. Tonight’s a bit of a departure from that, wouldn’t you say?”

He sighs.

“Simon. What’s going on?”

“I got into a bit of a scrap with Mage.”

“When?”

“At the party.”

I think back on the night. I don’t recall seeing Simon with Mage but I didn’t have eyes on him the whole time. He was running around quite a bit all evening.

“What about?”

“Quite a few things. The party mostly.” Simon exhales again and his expression becomes grave. “No one gave me any new parameters for the cost. I followed last year’s budget. Mage had approved it a few months ago.”

A chill goes through me. I’d just gone over the projected year-end numbers with Mage Friday. They weren’t good. He’s been vastly overspending with marketing and Board-focused events. Retreats. Strategic planning sessions. Consultants. Corporate mumbo-jumbo as far as I’m concerned. Colossally wasteful. It’s done nothing for our bottom line. Made it worse, if anything.

Our customers rely on our thoroughness and reliability. Mage has cut a swathe through the staff in the last two years, alienating long-term employees and hiring toadies who curry his favor. The loss of Possibelf six months ago and Minos a few weeks after decimated those departments. Mage hired Bunce’s brother, but Premal is new to the business and far too arrogant to ask for help. The managers under him have been floundering for months, despite my clandestine assistance.

Assistance Mage has sharply reprimanded me for more than once.  

He was incensed on Friday, with the numbers I had shown him. Accurate, up to date, precise numbers. He’d threatened another round of layoffs, which will only weaken us further. That’s why I was in such a foul mood when Simon caught me.

It seems Simon’s borne the brunt of Mage’s rage as well. “What did he say?” My tone is far gentler than it typically is with him.

“He was furious about the menu. The open bar. The holiday prizes we give out every year.”

That was my mother’s tradition. A series of gifts for random employees. She’d draw the names out of a top hat and the winners would march off with an iPad or a new watch. A television or a swanky SatNav. There were always one or two splashy items while the rest were more moderate. It was a unique way to boost employee morale and add a tinge of excitement to the party. Something a bit more personal than the yearly holiday bonus check.

Simon was still speaking. “Said we couldn’t afford it. Said I’d overstepped my bounds by not clearing it with him.” His face clouds over. “But I did clear it with him, Baz. I cleared it with him months ago, when I booked the Club. When I purchased the items. How was I to know the funds were more precarious now?”

There was no way for Simon to know. Not if Mage hadn’t told him. He is a direct report to Mage, no one else. It isn’t my place to peruse the budgets with the CEO’s assistant. Another example of how unfit this man is to run the company.  

Simon leans forward, his head buried in his hands. “Christ, I feel like such a fucking idiot. I never intended to make things worse.”

I’m not sure how I end up with my hand on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault. You did what you’re supposed to do. It’s his job to keep up with the finances. It’s his job to communicate if he needs plans to change.” My hand makes its way across his back and then he’s leaning against me, his head on my shoulder.

I can smell the clean, fresh scent of his hair. His curls are tickling my neck. He’s pressed up against me and I can’t pull away. I’m riveted to the spot.  

I find myself crooning soothing phrases into his hair. It isn’t Simon’s fault and it’s complete bollocks that Mage has made him feel responsible and guilty. No wonder he was hitting the drinks hard tonight.

If I know anything about Snow it’s that he’s frugal to a fault. He grew up in the care system, had nothing of his own. The scholarship may have rescued him from that environment but he’s never lost his sense of caution about expenses. It’s a well-known office fact. I don’t need to know him well to know this about him.

It’s obvious from where he lives. How he eats. I think he’s the only other employee who brings food from home almost exclusively. I do it because I’m anti-social and I don’t really like eating in front of others much. He does it to conserve his finances.

I keep murmuring comforting words to him. It’s basically a litany of “it’s alright, you did nothing wrong” repeated over and over at this point. I’m not quite sure what else to do. I really should get up and get him settled for the night.

But I don’t want to. I know it’s wrong to relish the sensation of him near me but it’s been far too long since I’ve had human contact like this. I know I’m supposed to be comforting him but this is consoling me as well.

I may never have another chance to hold him in my arms like this.

I don’t know how much time passes. I’ve stopped speaking now, I’m just holding him. He stirs and lifts his head. He’s so close. Our eyes lock and I’m lost in the blue of his gaze.

“Thank you, Baz.” It’s a whisper but the feel of his breath ghosting against my lips makes me shiver. His hand comes up to cup my face and his head tilts up.

And then he kisses me. Simon Snow is kissing me and it’s simultaneously the best thing and the worst thing in the world.

The best because it’s Simon Snow kissing me and I’ve desperately wanted this for so long. I’ve never been kissed quite like this. He’s doing this thing with his jaw and it’s overwhelming me. It’s soft, passionate, so devastatingly sensual that my lips part of their own volition and I lose myself in the taste of him.

It’s the worst because I can’t let him keep doing it. He’s not himself. He’s had too much to drink. He doesn’t mean this. He’s not thinking clearly. I pull away, every nerve in my body alight with the sense of him. I’m literally dragging my lips from his as the regret pools in my stomach, weighing me down.

“I’m sorry, Simon. That was uncalled for. I apologize.”

He blinks at me, face flushed. “What’re you apologizing for? I kissed you.”

“I know that. But you’re not yourself. I shouldn’t have let you do that.”

Simon frowns at me. “But I wanted to.”

I’m not prepared for this. I feel exposed, raw, vulnerable. It’s all I’ve wanted and the reality that I can’t let myself have this is devastating.

“You may think that now, Simon, but you likely won’t feel the same way tomorrow.” I shift away slightly and then stand up. I can’t help but reach out one more time, to rest my hand on his shoulder. I can feel the heat of his skin through the fabric. It’s an effort to step back but I have to do it.

I yank the pillow and blanket from the armchair nearby and make a show of fluffing the pillow and settling it in place for him. I give him a gentle push and he slides down until he’s curled up on his side. He looks so young, so trusting. My hand creeps forward of its own volition to sweep the curls off his forehead, my fingers lingering in his hair for a moment. I settle the blanket over him and decisively step away.

Simon’s eyes follow me as I move towards the hallway leading to my room. “Good night, Simon.”

I close my eyes for a brief second and then switch the light off. I see him shift a bit in the dimness,hear his whispered “goodnight, Baz”and then I turn away to find the lonely comfort of my room.

It takes me a long time to fall asleep.

Simon

Baz may think I’m going to forget this or regret it in the morning. He couldn’t be more wrong. The only thing I might regret is the hangover I’m sure to have tomorrow, but I don’t expect I’m going to feel much remorse about that.  

I doubt I’d have had the courage to kiss Baz just now, if I hadn’t had a few drinks in me.

I probably wouldn’t have had the nerve at all, if Mage hadn’t aggravated me to the point of throwing all caution to the wind and indulging in more liquor than I’ve had since uni. Can’t be helped.

It did serve to clarify things for me.

I like Baz. More than like him.

I can’t delude myself that the feelings I have for him are just casual interest or fascination. The truth is I’ve had a crush on Baz for quite some time now.

I’d resigned myself to it being a one-sided attraction but I’m not sure that’s true, if the way he responded to my kissing him is any indication.

I liked that too.

I pull the blanket up to my chin. It smells like Baz; cedar and bergamot.

I breathe the scent in and let my eyes drift closed.

[babyshawwn]

Surrender | Blurb

Word count: 2.6k. 

A/N: Because I’ve been in a soft mood lately. 

MASTERLIST

Though snow had begun falling yesterday and hadn’t stopped even once over the night, a small trickle of warmth from the early morning sun streamed into the familiar, dim bedroom that I occasionally shared with my boyfriend and forced a slight heat to rise in the large, white room little by little. 

The blinds weren’t rolled down completely and the sun reflecting on the surface of white snow outside, slowly began lightening the room and somewhat pulled me from my drowse. Rolling over to face towards the window, still completely stunned by the CN tower covered in snow and the Christmas lights hanging on almost every corner of the street, I hadn’t quite gotten used to the beautiful view just yet. 

What I had already gotten used to was falling asleep and waking up next to Shawn. Though we hadn’t been dating all that long, it had easily become my favourite thing in the world. 

My fingers slid across the warm, white bedsheets as I reached for Shawn’s bare back. My eyes popped wide open as my hands, to my great disappointment, didn’t find what they had begun searching for. 

Peering slightly confused around the room, I found Shawn’s side of the bed empty and he was nowhere else to be seen. 

I’m not sure why but a slight yank of distress reached the surface of my stomach. I couldn’t name anything better than waking up to his cute little snores and his warm body just a few inches next to mine, his hair all messy and his cheeks just a tad more heated than otherwise. 

Rubbing my eyes to get rid of the still blurry vision, I pushed my heavy body up, wondering where the hell my panties ended up after last night. 

We had been at a Christmas party with his friends, whom always managed to drink him completely under the table while playing beer pong. Shawn was convinced that Brian cheated each time and the rest of us were fully aware that Shawn always lost simply because he sucked. 

But okay, Brian and I had a lot of practice from Uni, maybe too much practice to be completely honest, and Shawn had absolutely none. 

When we got home at three in the morning, Shawn had been quite eager to say the least and our clothes had been thrown carelessly on the floor all over the apartment while making our way towards his bedroom. 

Shawn was a horny drunk, heck, it didn’t take much more than a couple of beers before he started sending dirty texts and teasing stares from across the room. 

But hey, who isn’t a sucker for sloppy drunk sex? 

Running a hand through my messy hair and gently tugging the usual knots apart, I studied the room for my clothes but gave up rather quickly, reaching for one of Shawn’s white t-shirt and tugged it over my body with a tired smile on my lips as the scent of his strong cologne spread within the matter of seconds after pulling it over my head. 

It was big enough to cover my ass and there would be no need to search further for the lost panties. Letting my bare feet settle on the cold floor, a shiver ran down my spine and I swayed across the wooden floor, picking up Shawn’s jeans from last night and hanging them across the chair in the corner as I heard faint music somewhere down the hallway. 

A slight giggle rolled out of my mouth as I imagined him dancing along in his boxers while the radio played in the background. He did that a lot. I loved how, despite his choice of career, he still became rather embarrassed when I caught him jamming out to Kings of Leon. 

As I continued padding my way towards the source of the music, a burnt smell seemed to spread as I realised Shawn was fumbling around in the kitchen, just down the hall. 

More than one thing was rather strange about this particular, cold December morning in Shawn’s Toronto based flat. 

For one, Shawn never got up earlier than noon after a hefty night of drinking. Even on weekdays, where I was technically the only one who had to wake up early, I only managed to get him out of bed after at least ten minutes of persuading and negotiating about how I was going to make up for dragging him out of his comfy bed. 

Often, it involved some begging and very little clothing. 

Secondly, Shawn barely used the kitchen at all. Truth be told, he usually avoided going in there and to be completely honest, that was probably for the best. This kid could set cereal on fire.

Or burn something as easy as rice whenever I left him in charge for less than four minutes without supervision. 

So what on earth was he doing up this early and why the heck was he in the kitchen? 

The realistic answer might be that he was still slightly drunk and had simply gotten lost on his way to the bathroom in the middle of the night to go for a pee. 

Yes, that was actually easier to believe than Shawn willingly waking up before a quarter to nine. 

As I made it into the kitchen, I simply couldn’t help the tiny smile that slipped across my lips at the sight that met me. 

Shawn was standing by the sink, shirtless with a pair of grey sweatpants hanging lose from his hips. His hair was messy and the curls uncontrolled, falling into his eyes without him caring and his face was heated and had become a beautiful pinkish colour. 

Shawn was cussing as he dropped a hot pan into the sink, smoke from something burnt I couldn’t quite put my finger on clotting around him, whining in pain and muttering complaints to himself, his voice still rather husky from sleep and last night’s heavy drinking. 

Yeah, Shawn and cooking really wasn’t a match. 

Leaning against the counter, resting my chin in my palm, a small giggly sound escaping my lips, as I watched my boyfriend violently stabbing a piece of burnt toast with a knife as if it would somehow make it better. 

The teakettle made a high pitch sound – that apparently seemed unfamiliar enough to frighten Shawn – and there for the poor guy dropped the over-done toast into the sink. 

I had to hold back a laughter by biting into my bottom lip as Shawn began swearing under his breath, throwing spoons and forks across the kitchen in anger, while talking about how trashy the kitchen machines were and how no one beside professional chefs could possibly work these stupid things. 

“So you’re making breakfast?” I giggled in disbelieve as he spun around seconds after. 

His eyes seemed slightly confused, a little frightened but most of all annoyed with the entire situation he had gotten himself into. 

It was rather cute.

Shawn blushed slightly as he caught the state of the kitchen, but I couldn’t help but laugh the adorable face he was unwillingly making. 

“Yeah, I uhm. Wanted to surprise you, I guess. Being the day before Christmas and all…” Shawn shrugged, his hand scratching the back of his neck as he realized his defeat. “Didn’t really go as planned.” 

“You don’t say.” 

I raised an eyebrow at him and pushed myself to sit on the counter as Shawn made his way towards me. 

“Just get it over with, okay?” He told me, rolling his eyes annoyingly, despite the loving smile that was planted on his face. 

“I didn’t say anything.” 

“But I know you want to. Come at me, I’m a big boy, I can take it.”  

Shawn placed his soft hands on my tights before spreading them apart - just enough for him to get between them - and pulled my body just a little closer to his. 

I folded my arms around his neck and gave him a soft peck on the tip of his nose. His broad, naked chest were brushing softly against mine when he moved and it sent multiple vibrations through my body and forced a pull in my stomach. 

“I’ll give you an A for effort?” 

“I’ll take what I can get.” He joked, his eyes rolling at me. 

“I love you for wanting to make me breakfast, though. That was sweet of you.”

Shawn rested his head on my collarbone as his arms wrapped around my waist and he pressed his face against my skin. My fingers disappeared into his messy hair and I locked my legs around his hips to keep him close. 

Shawn was warm, as always, and the movement from his fingertips on my lower back made a tickly feeling reach the tip of my toes. 

Shawn’s soft lips were muttering sweet words against my bare skin, I couldn’t really hear what he was saying, but the tickle from his plump lips forced a heat to rise in my cheeks. 

The more time I spend with him, the more my heart began to feel things, I never thought could happen to someone like me. It was weird to me, really. 

I was never the girl to believe in a love like this, a love like all the movies or a love like Shawn write songs about. I was never the girl to believe in a happy ever after or that men could actually be reliable. I had been let down too many times. 

And now, I felt… wrong whenever I wasn’t around him. I had gotten used to his loving and caring ways when I was with him. Gotten attached to his beyond beautiful soul and big, warm heart. I was slowly but surely becoming addicted to his affection and his heart. 

Suddenly, I didn’t feel the kind of empty I had been feeling since the first time my heart got broken. I wasn’t drowning anymore; my head wasn’t constantly under water. I could breathe when I was around him. 

And having him as close as he was now, exploded my heart with a kind of love, I never knew existed. A kind of love, I never thought someone as cynical as I was, would ever be able to find, would ever be able to believe in. 

But I did now, I did believe in Shawn’s heart. I believed in his intentions, his promises. In him. For the first time in my life. 

Shawn’s fingers moved to my thighs and his thumbs began moving around in small circles as he tilted his head to look towards mine. 

“What are you thinking about?” He wondered as his eyes fell on mine. 

Shawn found my fingers and intertwined them with his, pulling to his mouth to place a warm and loving kiss on my knuckles. Pecking softly here and there without letting go of my hand. 

“It’s nothing, it’s stupid.” I told him, heated raising within seconds. 

“Nothing you say is stupid.” He assured, his warm eyes locking with mine. “I love hearing your thoughts, I love when you share what you’re thinking about.”

“It’s moments like this one here that makes me wish I had fallen in love with you years ago.” My eyes flickering slightly to the floor. “And I… I could get kinda used to being someone you love. Even when you nearly set the house on fire.” 

Shawn didn’t respond with his words, but his reached for my cheek to attach our lips together softly. Leaning further into the kiss, his sweetness made it to my mouth, and a warmth ran down my spine. 

“I could get kinda used to loving you.” He muttered into my mouth, gasping slightly for air. 

Breaking the kiss his forehead rested on mine, his eyes shut as his nose tip brushed lightly against mine. 

It was the softest moment we had ever shared, right here on the counter in a messy kitchen with a rather burnt smell hanging thick in the air, but it was perfect and all I ever wanted. 

“Please be gentle with me, okay?” I whispered against his lips as I felt a small yank in my heart. 

As soon as those tiny but fragile words had escaped my mouth, Shawn’s hold around my tiny body tightened to reassure me that I would always be safe with him. 

“I’m going to love you until you believe in love again. That’s one thing I can easily promise you.” He hummed back. 

“I’m really happy when I’m with you, Shawn.” 

“I’m really happy when you’re with me too.” He whispered back, once again allowing his head to rest on my shoulder. 

He began planting small kisses along my neck as his fingers once again continued embracing my lower back in such a loving way it left tickling traces behind. 

Shawn cuddled further into my arms and I let my chin rest on the top of his head, his curls tickling my throat whenever he moved just an inch. The warmth from his body heated mine as his arms locked tenderly around my waist and he slid me to the edge of the counter to get a better hold around me. 

I had noticed how he loved placing his head close to my chest, how he felt somewhat calmer when I held him like that, when I allowed him to listen to my heart beat against my chest. 

Shawn had surrounded everything he had to me and I was slowly beginning to surrender my heart to him as well. Little by little, I gave him pieces to cherish and hold in his hands. 

It was fucking terrifying but it was also nice - for once - not feeling incredibly lonely during the holiday where everyone else usually felt the most love. And finally, I had someone to spend Christmas with. 

“God, I never really get tired of this view.” I muttered to myself in awe as my eyes fell on the rather large windows across from the open kitchen. 

Toronto was covered in snow and a dim clod had begun covering the sky but it just made it all that much cosier to me. Peaceful really. 

“Well, I like this view better.” Shawn said, his eyes falling on me sitting on the kitchen counter. “You, in my favourite t-shirt, obviously naked underneath with your messy hair and your drowsy eyes. That’s a view I could never get tired of.” He hummed sweetly as he leaned down and kissed the top of my shoulder ever so gently. 

I couldn’t stop the heat raising in my cheeks as a strange but balminess feeling took over. A warmth tugged in my stomach as his plump lips continuedly brushed against my skin, leaving a vibration trace down my neck. His lips began to wander and a few bites found its way to my body. 

“I’d much rather eat you for breakfast.” He gasped into my neck. 

I swallowed at his teasing words, shutting my eyes to deal with the amount of pressure his actions were giving me. 

“Well, nothing’s stopping you.” I hummed back sweetly, a tiny stutter creeping in. “I’d like to think I’m a bit better tasting than your burnt toast.” 

Shawn pushed the oversized t-shirt above my head and let it fall to the floor as he shook his head playfully at me. 

“Well, let’s find out.” He teased, a smug appearing on his lips. 

With his left hand, he forced my back down on the counter, pushed my legs apart and attached his lips my core and his head began moving between my trembling legs. 

Oh yes. I was indeed, in more ways than one, beginning to surrender myself fully to Shawn.  

[charanteleclerc]

ice cold but not stone hearted

A/N:  Based on the prompt from sloangreytrash: Seb is a vampire, and this quote must be worked in "You've been staring at me all night. Do you like what you see?" I hope I did it justice! I adore researching mythology, though there was a small stumbling block in the fact that Finland doesn't have vampiric mythology, so I made the stories very vague! Given half the chance I would love to do a full mythology story, I honestly just love writing my own takes on them. Sorry this took so long, life threw a lot of curveballs my way in a very short space of time, so doing anything was pretty much at the bottom of my priorities, but hopefully no more of that now! 

As usual, prompts are always welcome! Thank you for reading! ❤️

Warning: There is violence in this, and blood. Full on vampires in this.

Crossposted to AO3 here

There was a new guy in town. He’d heard people whispering about it, once the ‘for sale’ sign had been taken down, despite the lack of selling points. The house was too far out of town, run-down, and far too big for any one person. And Finns, they were a superstitious set of people as a rule. There had always been stories about the woods, and certainly no-one from round these parts would even dream about buying that house. But the ‘sold’ sign went up, and the removal vans turned up anyway.

No-one saw the mysterious stranger to begin with. Then one person said they’d seen him. Confident, they said. Handsome. Then more and more people started to catch a sight of him, even talk to him. Charming, polite, smart. The ladies were flattered by him, the men wanted to be him (and were a little flattered themselves, though many would never admit to it). This man seemed almost too good to be true.

Kimi didn’t see him until almost two weeks after the stranger had move to town. It was late at night, having spent far too long at work after closing, and now his car wouldn’t start. He’d cursed his luck, and despite looking at the engine, he couldn’t actually see a problem. He was about to give it up as a bad job, walk home and ask his brother to tow it tomorrow, when the stranger drove up, stepping out of his car, looking concerned.

“Do you need help?” The man called, moving slowly towards Kimi. If he hadn’t already figured that this was the new guy (this town wasn’t exactly big), the man was only wearing a sweater despite the snowfall. Very new to the area. The country, even.

“Car won’t start.” Kimi replied. “Just my luck.”

“I know a few things about cars.” The guy shrugged. “Maybe I could have a look? It’d save you the walk home.”

Kimi shrugged, stepping back so the guy could have a look. The man walked quietly, almost silently, humming to himself when he peered over the car. He worked in silence for a few minutes, the eerie stillness of the snow surrounding them. Kimi leant up against his car, jumping slightly as the car turned itself on. The guy grinned sharply, all teeth, as he shut the bonnet. “Couldn’t have you walk home all alone, could we?”

“There’s not much to scare me.” Kimi smirked. The guy’s grin became more pointed.

“You can never be too sure.”

“Are you telling to believe in ghost stories?” He said in disbelief. The guy shrugged.

“Ghost stories, fairytales. All begin with a bit of truth, don’t they?” The guy nodded his head, turning and walking away. “Have a good evening.”

“And you.” Kimi replied, more from memory than actual politeness. He was a little confused - this man had literally pulled up out of nowhere, fixed his car, and then told him to believe in fairytales? He watched the headlights pull away into the fading snow, disappearing around the corner. Kimi shook himself, jumping into his car, trying to warm his hands.

He’d never even gotten his name.

                                                       ~*~

The guy walked into his shop a few days later, sharp smile in place. And still no coat. This guy was going to freeze to death before those ghost stories of his chased him out of town.

“I’m guessing you made it home?” The guy asked, sauntering up to the counter. Kimi raised an eyebrow.

“I’m guessing you didn’t just come here to ask about me?”

The guy gave a throaty laugh. “You’re a hard one to trick. But you’re right. I’m having an old friend to stay, and I figured why not use the local stuff? And your shop came recommended by most of the town.”

“That’s because I’m the only liquor shop in town.” Kimi replied drily. “We don’t have much in the way of wine, though. Fair warning. Not a lot of what we do is dinner party stuff, doesn’t pair well with food.”

“I don’t think we were planning on doing a lot of eating.” The guy chuckled, as if he’d just heard a joke that the rest of the world wasn’t allowed to hear. “Mainly drinking, this time.”

“Uni friend?”

“Something like that.” The guy’s smile was almost disconcertingly pleasant. “What would you recommend?”

“Depends on how drunk you want to get.” Kimi shrugged. “We’ve got ciders and beers, vodka obviously, Kossu, Sima, Lakka. Take your pick.”

“Which one is your favourite?” The guy asked. Kimi met his gaze, quirking his lips.

“Vodka, everytime. Drier the better.”

“Then I shall take some of that.” The guy smiled, reaching forward for the pen and paper on the desk. “I can’t take it now, do you deliver?”

“No.”

“Shame.” That dangerous smile was back in full force. He scribbled down something, his script slanted. “In case I forget to come back.”

“What’s this?” Kimi asked, turning his head to try and get a better look.

“My name and number. You already know where I live.”

Kimi thought about lying, but something in those eyes made him decide not to. “Bit hard not to when everyone is gossiping about it.”

“Well, I never like to be the centre of attention.” The guy gave another small laugh. “I’ll be back later.”

“Can’t wait.” Kimi replied sarcastically, only checking what was written after he was gone. Sebastian. It suited him.

                                                        ~*~

Sebastian seemed delighted when Kimi greeted him by name that evening. “You read it!”

“It was a note with only your name and number.” Kimi rolled his eyes. “Not exactly the most riveting read I’ve ever had.”

He couldn’t deny he didn’t like the way Sebastian’s smile seemed genuine, with actual happiness behind it. Before now, the expressions that he’d worn had all felt like masks, calculating. A wall to stop anyone from getting too close.

“Maybe I’ll come back when my friend has gone.” Sebastian said, like it was a challenge. Kimi shrugged, amused.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’ll remember that.” Was all he said, disappearing with his bottles into the darkening evening. Kimi turned to watch him go, but there was only an empty street. Huh. He moved fast.

                                                       ~*~

He’s not sure what started it, but something had set the town on edge. Everyone was jittery, barely talking except in hushed whispers. Darted looks towards the trees. Sent a brief prayer to whatever deity they believed in everytime they strayed too close to the town limits. He knew the stories, of course he did. He was born and raised in this town, those stories were in his bones. But this was becoming ridiculous. Everyone was nervy. An old lady had muttered a prayer for his soul when he’d passed her earlier, giving him a terrified stare and running off when he’d tried to ask her what it was all about.

He’d shut the shop early, running around the corner and borrowing Rami’s dog under the guise that both he and the dog needed the exercise. No-one questioned it, which was a little rude, but he didn’t particularly care. He took the dog to the edge of the woods, determined to prove once and for all that there was nothing wrong with the fucking woods. That they were only ghost stories passed down through the generations when they had nothing else to entertain. The woods were just that. Woods.

Well, he would. But even Rami’s dog refused to go in after a few feet. She growled, fur all stood on end.

“Not you too.” Kimi groaned. “What is it with everyone today?”

He tried to coax the dog in, but she refused to budge forward, pulling on her leash back towards the house. Kimi finally gave in, taking the dog for a proper walk around town before handing her back to Rami. Then he headed back to the edge of the woods again.

“Don’t get all cowardly now Raikkonen.” He muttered to himself, shoving his hands in his pockets. “There’s nothing wrong with the woods.”

He started walking in, trying not to think about the longer growing shadows. He’d never let the town soothsayers get into his head before, he wasn’t about to start now. He felt the snow crunch underfoot, crisp and untouched. Once he’d gotten past the stupid fear that’d been building all day, it was nice out here. Quiet.

He could see a house growing out of the trees ahead of him, a few lights on. Sebastian must be home then. He’d never actually seen the inside of the house, this being about as close to the building as he’d dare to be when he was a teenager. With someone actually living there, it wasn’t so much a haunted house anymore, maybe it was a good time to have a nosy around. He wandered towards the front of the house, humming to himself.

Then he heard the scream.

His insides ran cold, like he’d been turned to ice. He froze, not sure which way to look, which was to turn. Which way to run. He tried to slow his breathing, trying to convince himself that it was just a figment of his imagination. Then came another, sharp and bloodcurdling and terrified.

He ran towards the house, desperate for Sebastian to hear him.He banged on the door, not wanting to shout. He didn’t want whatever caused that to come this way. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, the air still. He took a deep breath, turning around slowly.

There was a man standing in the driveway, teeth bared and dripping. His eyes were frenzied and ruby red, and he was looking at him like he was prey. A snarl ripped out of the man’s throat, and he was running straight at Kimi, teeth - no, fangs - open. Kimi shut his eyes, hoping it’d be over quickly.

It never came at all.

When he opened his eyes, Sebastian was wrestling the man off him, talking in a language he didn’t understand. The man shook Sebastian off, but he didn’t make another attempt at Kimi, taking off down the drive instead. Really, really quickly.

“Get in.” Sebastian snapped, hauling Kimi to his feet. “Now.”

Kimi did as he was told, stumbling into the house. He could feel himself shaking, terror still gripping him. “What… what was…”

"What are you doing here?” Sebastian’s voice was like a whip. “How stupid do you have to be to go out wandering by yourself?”

“I wasn’t expecting… that!” Kimi shot back, anger starting to rise. It didn’t seem like Sebastian was about to tear him to pieces, he could get a little angry. “Who expects that?”

“I told you!” The power behind Sebastian’s voice sent him stumbling back a couple of steps. “I told you the first time, that maybe you should believe in ghost stories!”

“Well, I’m sorry, but how was I supposed to take that as a warning?” Kimi spat. “Kimi, stay out of the woods, there’s a crazy bloodsucking monster in there!”

“He’s not crazy.”

“He looked pretty crazy to me when he was getting ready to tear my throat out!”

Sebastian stopped at that, the fury fading from his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise he’d get so… out of hand.”

Kimi made a noise, walking up to Sebastian until he’s standing nose to nose with him. He vaguely wonders if this is what it’s like to look the devil in the face. “I’m not sure I want to see your uncontrollable.”

He turned to leave, but Sebastian yanked his hand away from the door. “You can’t go out there.”

“What, got another monster out there?”

“Kimi.” Sebastian stepped in front of him. “I was able to stop him last time. I might not be able to stop him again.”

“Maybe you need to get a leash on your pet.”

Sebastian’s eyes flashed. “Don’t call him that.”

“What, he isn't?” Kimi sneered. “Are you scared of him too?”

Sebastian snarled, and fuck, he wasn’t expecting to see fangs actually appear. Sebastian’s eyes were turning a hazy red, he was shaking all over. Kimi backed up, panic flaring again. His own stupid mouth was what would finally get him killed. Figured.

“Sebastian?” He tried, hoping his voice was holding steady. “Sebastian?”

Those red eyes were locked on him, and Sebastian was smirking again. It was dangerous, and predatory, and fuck, he was a little turned on. Mostly frozen to his core, but a little turned on.

Sebastian started moving towards him, but stopped suddenly, like he couldn’t move. There was a long moan, as if he were in pain. “Sebastian?” Kimi asked again, tentatively. Sebastian stuck out a hand.

“Don’t.” He hissed. “Stay there.”

For once, he listened. He stood there, watching Sebastian try and gain control again. It was some kind of morbid fascination, or lack of self-preservation. Something like that. He shouldn’t be so drawn to this, when only seconds ago Sebastian had been looking at him like he was a tasty snack. He still wasn’t completely sure that Sebastian wouldn’t just pull off one of his limbs just to gnaw on.

“Why did you come here?” Sebastian gritted out. Kimi gaped. Sebastian snapped his head up, and whilst his eyes weren’t red, he looked pissed. “Why did you come here?”

“To the woods?” Kimi asked. Sebastian snarled.

“No, to my house. I chose it specifically because no-one comes here.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Kimi could hear that he sounded petulant, and Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t! I just ended up here.”

“You nearly died.”

“Yeah, that hadn’t really been part of my plan for the evening.” Kimi tried to joke. Sebastian ignored it.

“If my protection hadn’t stalled him, you would’ve been.” Sebastian snapped, stalking towards him. “I can’t be there every time you decide to risk your neck.”

Kimi blinked. “Protection? What protection?”

“My name.” Sebastian explained slowly, as if he were talking to a child. Rude. “It’s a protection spell, to read the true name of a vampire.”

“So you are… you are a vampire?” Kimi heard his voice get high. “Oh fuck, I need to sit down.”

“The floor is all yours.” The first traces of that clever, witty man were starting to appear, beneath the cracks in the fury. “Feel free.”

“Thanks.” Kimi replied, promptly sitting down. It had been offered. “So… vampire. Huh.”

“You’re actually taking this well.” Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “No screaming yet. Or pitchforks.”

“Why, do people usually come at you with pitchforks?”

“Not since about 1720, I admit.” Sebastian looked almost amused. “Like they stood a chance.”

“Have you killed people?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Kimi felt his heart starting to thud again. “Was that scream out there? Was that a person?”

“Yes.” Sebastian sat down in front of him. “Does that bother you?”

“I... don’t know.” Kimi admitted. “I think I’m still processing.”

Sebastian hummed, watching him. Kimi could feel his skin prickle. “Are you going to kill me? Or eat me? Or drink? Whatever it is you do.”

“No.” Sebastian cocked his head. “Why would I go to the trouble of giving you protection and then kill you?”

“I don’t know.” Kimi shook his head. “Why did you give me protection?”

“Because you’re interesting.” Sebastian explained. “I like interesting things.”

Kimi scowled. “I’m a thing?”

Sebastian sighed. “I’ve been alive since 1506. Everyone is a thing to me. Except my own kind, and in all honesty, I don’t keep in contact with a lot of them.”

“That’s a really long time to be lonely.” Kimi blurted out. Sebastian gave him a long look. “Sorry.”

“You’re right.” Sebastian replied, a little wistful. “It is a long time to be lonely.”

The door creaked, and it was all he could not to jump up and start running. Sebastian was between him and the door, and Sebastian seemed unconcerned. A young man walked in, looking embarrassed. Sebastian raised his head a little, and then man stopped.

“Are you good?”

The man nodded in answer, and Sebastian relaxed. “Kimi, this is Charles. Charles, Kimi.”

“Sorry for earlier.” Charles said before Kimi could even open his mouth. “I’m not normally that careless.”

“I won’t happen again.” Sebastian said, an edge to his voice. Charles shook his head. Sebastian stood, offering his hand to Kimi. “I’ll take you home.”

Kimi let himself be pulled up and led out the door, Charles still standing by himself. “He doesn't look dangerous.” Kimi offered, feeling sympathy for him suddenly. He probably couldn’t help wanting to suck him dry.

Oh god, look at him. One traumatic episode in his life and he was already siding with the monsters.

“It was careless.” Sebastian replied, walking Kimi to his car and opening the door. “He should’ve known better.”

Kimi didn’t answer, pretending to be occupied with the seatbelt. Sebastian didn’t say anything, putting the car into gear and tearing off down the driveway. If it’d been any other time, he could probably appreciate the car and the drive and just hanging out with a hot bloke, but his mind just couldn’t focus. They sped through the woods, and the trees and the shadows inbetween them were suddenly chilling to him. He sneaked a look at Sebastian, but he could barely see him in the dark. He kept his eyes on the road, only relaxing when he saw houses and street lights through the trees.

“You’re scared.”

Kimi started, glancing over. He could see him now, the shadows casting long over his face, his expression impassive. “A little.” Kimi said, pulling his coat further around him. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Sebastian replied evenly. They pulled up in front of his house, and Kimi frowned.

“How did you know where I live?”

Sebastian smirked. “I told you, I like interesting things.”

“Stalker.” Kimi muttered, getting out of the car. He didn’t turn back until he was at his front door, feeling awkward for the first time. He raised his hand slightly, and Sebastian nodded, driving off. Kimi sighed, heading inside, slumping onto the first seat he could find.

Vampires. Fucking hell.

                                                           ~*~

The world was still turning when he woke up, and his life hadn’t stopped just because he’d found out that supernatural creatures of the dead were a thing. He went to work, and tried to put that little bit of information as far out of his brain as possible. If he started to dwell on him, he might really start to panic, and he wasn’t about to let that happen. So he carried on like normal, and he did the same the next day, and the day after that. Sebastian seemed to stay up in his house and far away from the town, and he was beginning to convince himself that it had all been a horrible, vivid dream.

He was beginning to be successful about pretending that the whole night had never happened, when Sebastian walked back into his shop, eyeing him like he was about to start screaming. Which, he could. He might, if he didn’t want to look insane.

“Welcome to the Iceman, we have a variety of alcohol’s on offer -”

“Kimi.”

“Including from local distilleries and old traditional recipes -”

“Kimi.”

“Feel free to ask about anything -”

“Kimi!” Sebastian shouted, standing in front of him. “Stop ignoring me!”

Kimi glared, crossing his arms. Sebastian sighed, looking annoyed. “I did come here to see if you were okay.”

“I’m okay. I see people turn into supernatural creatures all the time. Did I not mention, my brother’s a werewolf?” Kimi said sarcastically. “Of course I’m not okay! I nearly had my throat ripped out by a vampire!”

“Say it a little louder, I don’t think someone in the next town heard you.” Sebastian hissed. “I don’t actually want to move to Siberia, amazingly.”

“Why, lack of people to kill?” Kimi snapped. Sebastian narrowed his eyes.

“Charles has gone. He won’t be coming back.”

“Good.”

“Are you ever going to thank me for saving you?”

“You were the one that put me in danger in the first place.” Kimi raised an eyebrow. “You apologise.”

Sebastian sneered. “I’m not going to apologise for being myself.”

“Then I’m not going to thank you.” Kimi shrugged. “Are you going to buy anything?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Sebastian stared in disbelief for a few seconds, then turned abruptly on his heel, slamming the door behind him on the way out. Kimi let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, sitting down shakily. He didn’t his heart was going to last if Sebastian kept turning up. Hopefully he’d take the hint and move the fuck away from here (and him).

                                                     ~*~

He didn’t take the hint.

He walked in the very next day, scowling. “Sorry. For being a… you know. And moving to this town and making your life complicated.”

Kimi blinked. “Huh?”

“I’ve apologised.” Sebastian said, scowl deepening. “Now you say thank you.”

“Thank you.” Kimi repeated, mind still playing catch-up. “Huh?”

Sebastian walked up to the counter, leaning over close to Kimi’s face. “I don’t like having to apologise.”

“Don’t be an idiot then.” Kimi replied. His self-preservation really was pathetic. “I thought you were angry with me.”

“I am.” Sebastian said, watching him carefully. “I thought you were scared of me.”

“I am.”

Sebastian grinned, and honestly, it was possibly the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He wasn’t pretending in front of him, and it was dangerous and inviting and almost carefree. “You don’t seem it.”

“You don’t seem angry.” Kimi pointed out. Sebastian shrugged.

“I’m sure I’ll tell you that I don’t like to apologise again in the future.”

“You sound like you’re planning on hanging around.”

“Depends.” Sebastian said lightly. “Do I have something to stay for?”

Kimi smirked. “Are you asking?”

“Yes.”

“The maybe.” Kimi said, pulling back a little. Sebastian made a noise under his breath, trying to follow. “No, I’m not going to be your concubine, or succubus, or whatever it is you have. This human would like to have a date.”

Sebastian smiled, delighted. “I can be patient.”

“You’ll have to be.”

Sebastian watched him for a second, straightening up. “Would you like to come over tonight?”

Kimi eyed him warily. “Am I going to have another near death experience?”

Sebastian smirked. “No.”

“Sure then.” Kimi nodded. “Will I get to see your coffin?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” Sebastian said, walking towards the door. Kimi gaped.

“Wait, you actually have a coffin?”

He only got a laugh in response. Damn, he really hoped there was.

                                                       ~*~

Vampires, it turned out, were incredibly boring. They lived like normal people, where was the fun in that? The coffin didn’t exist (the story persisted, despite the fact there had only been one vampire with a flair for dramatics using them, apparently), and Sebastian’s house was nothing like an old castle. He did have some interesting pieces, it was impossible to live for five hundred years and not collect a single thing, Sebastian said. But underneath it all, it was just a normal house.

“You’re disappointed.” Sebastian said, amused, as they climbed up the stairs. Kimi shrugged.

“All the stories say you live in creepy castles. This isn’t a creepy castle.”

“I do have a creepy castle.” Sebastian said, grinning. Kimi stared. “Really. Well, less a castle, but definitely a mansion at least.”

“Why aren’t you there?”

Sebastian looked at him. “I don’t age, Kimi. It’d look strange if I’m supposed to be sixty and I still look like I’m in my mid-twenties.”

Kimi had to give him that. “So you move around, what, every decade?”

“Pretty much?”

“Since you’ve been a vampire?”

“Not the first hundred years. People knew what we were then, they were scared enough not to come close. And the bloodlust is the only thing you can concentrate on for about a hundred years.”

“Right.”

Sebastian cocked his head. “People don’t really find out about me anymore. Definitely not humans. It’s nice to talk about it, but if it makes you uncomfortable, I can stop.”

“It doesn’t.”

Sebastian stepped closer. “Are you sure?”

Kimi smirked. “It’ll take a few more than old stories to scare me, remember?”

Sebastian stepped even closer, crowding him back up against the wall. “I’ve never met someone so foolish.”

“Have you ever talked to a human long enough to find out?”

“No.”

“We’re all pretty foolish.” Kimi murmured. “We do a lot of stupid things.”

“Is this a stupid thing?”

“Still figuring it out.” Kimi replied. Sebastian’s eyes darkened, and he trailed a finger down Kimi’s face, down his throat.

“What do you want?”

“Everything.” Kimi whispered, and it was all that Sebastian needed. Kimi felt himself being lifted up, pinned up against the wall. Sebastian trailed soft kisses down his throat, a hint of teeth grazing. Kimi whimpered, and Sebastian’s mouth was on his, swallowing any sound he made. Kimi wrapped his legs around Sebastian’s waist, fisting a hand in Sebastian’s hair. Sebastian pulled away, that dangerous smirk still on his face.

“Close your eyes.” Sebastian commanded him. Kimi did as he was asked, only opening them when he felt himself being lowered onto a bed. Sebastian chuckled at his confused expression.

“I can move faster than you. Didn’t want to test your ability to withstand that right now.” Sebastian explained, tugging his shirt off. “I’ve other plans for you.”

“Get on with it then.” Kimi huffed, pulling his own shirt off. Sebastian chuckled again, crawling up the bed and straddling Kimi.

“Not very patient, are we?” Sebastian murmured, raking his fingernails down Kimi’s side. “What shall we do about that?”

Kimi whined as Sebastian started to work at his jeans, pulling them down slowly. Sebastian smirked, as he peeled of his own clothes one by one, before crawling back onto the bed. “Sebastian.”

“Kimi.” Sebastian replied. He leaned over Kimi, biting gently down Kimi’s neck. Kimi whined again, scraping his nails down Sebastian’s back. Sebastian finally moaned, warm against his neck. “Kimi.”

“Get on with it.”

Sebastian’s eyes were dark again, and he was trailing downwards again, open mouthed kisses against Kimi’s torso. Sebastian licked up Kimi’s dick, tasting, watching Kimi squirm beneath him. “What do you want?” Sebastian asked again, watching.

“Everything.” Kimi ground out, gripping onto Sebastian’s hair again. “Please.”

Sebastian swallowed down, holding Kimi in place with ease. Kimi tightened his grip on Sebastian’s hair, whimpering when Sebastian hummed around him. Kimi couldn’t think, his brain was working at a speed he couldn’t keep up with. Everytime there was a hint of teeth, he’d shiver, anticipating a danger that never came. He was coming alive, his body electric, his world centred down to just him and Sebastian.

“I’m -” Was all Kimi managed to utter before he was arching off the bed, falling and crashing harder than he ever had. He gasped, watching Sebastian pull off, his eyes tinted red. “Sebastian.”

“You’re beautiful.” Sebastian whispered, coming up and kissing him hard, bruising. “You’re imperfect, and so beautiful.”

“Do you need to…?”

Sebastian shook his head, blinking rapidly. “No, no, I need…” He trailed off, keeping his head down. Kimi sat up and looked down, and could see Sebastian’s fists clenched tightly.

“Blood.” Kimi filled in. Sebastian nodded, quick. Kimi raised his arm up, raising an eyebrow when Sebastian looked up, shocked. “I give something back.”

He could see Sebastian trying to ignore the urge, but his body won out over his mind, and teeth were sinking down into his arm, Sebastian moaning onto his skin. Kimi hissed a little, but the pain was gone as quickly as it came, only needing to wince a little when Sebastian pulled off.

“Thank you.” Came the quiet words. Kimi flopped down onto the bed, pulling Sebastian with him, putting his arm over Sebastian.

“No thinking now. Sleep.”

“Kimi.”

“Or just lie there. Whatever it is you do.” Kimi yawned, closing his eyes. “I’m sleeping.”

He heard a huff of laughter, and then silence, a cool hand stroking over his new wound gently, as if it could be closed by sheer willpower. Kimi smiled to himself, and let sleep take him.

                                                       ~*~

Kimi blinked awake, the room bathed in a cool light, the curtains pulled open. He groaned, turning and pulling the duvet further over his head, before he noticed there was someone still lying next to him. Kimi pulled a face, frowning a little at Sebastian.

“Have you been there all night?” Kimi asked. Sebastian shrugged, watching him carefully.

“Nothing better to do.”

“You’ve been staring at me all night.” Kimi teased. “Do you like what you see?”

Sebastian didn’t answer, just watched. Kimi sighed, propping himself up. “Are you freaking out? Because that really shouldn’t be you, that should be me.”

“That’s why, I think.” Sebastian said quietly. “Why are you not?”

“I did.” Kimi admitted. “Then I got over it. So you’re a vampire. So what?”

“Kimi, I’ve killed people.” Sebastian sounded tired. “I’m not a good person.”

“I never claimed to be either.” Kimi said, feeling frustrated. “I meant it when I said that I want everything. You’re not corrupting my soul, or asking me to kill people for you. You haven’t even asked me on a date.”

“I don’t eat.”

“So we go and do something else. I don’t care, Sebastian. There’s something about being with you that feels right, and you said it yourself, I’m interesting.”

Sebastian gave a little laugh, relaxing just a bit. “I did say that. It might be the first time you’ve actually listened to me as well.”

“I listen. Don’t always follow.” Kimi said. “If you really don’t want this, I’ll go.”

Sebastian made a pained noise. “I want this. I want this so badly, Kimi, but there are so many things that could go wrong. You’re so breakable, I’m dangerous, if I stay, I’m putting you at risk.”

“If you leave, you’ll be at risk of breaking my heart.” Kimi whispered. “Please don’t do that.”

“What about when I have to leave in ten years.” Sebastian tried. “What then?”

“We’ll cross that problem in ten years.” Kimi muttered, laying back down again, almost nose to nose with Sebastian. “Right now, you’re not going anywhere. And by anywhere, I mean anywhere but this bed.”

Sebastian laughed, pulling Kimi closer. “Only if you’re you’re not.”

No. He definitely wasn’t going anywhere.

[nyangibun]

Day 3 - At Last, My Lonely Days Are Over

Valentine’s Week - Love Songs

@jonxsansafanfiction

Song - At Last by Etta James

Ao3 Link

...

The truth is Jon Snow has been in love with Sansa Stark since he was eight-years-old.

Although, at that age, he didn’t exactly know that what he was feeling was love, but he knew that how he felt about Sansa was different to how he felt about Robb or Theon. With those two, they were his friends and he liked hanging out with them, and like any eight-year-old, they sometimes fought over stupid things like who ate the last chocolate bar and whether or not cops and robbers was a better game than tag. But with Sansa, all he wanted to do was make her smile. Anything she asked of him, he’d happily follow along, and it wasn’t just that Jon wanted to make little Sansa happy but he simply enjoyed being with her. She made him laugh. She was always so caring, in a way that Robb and Theon just weren’t.

Of course when they got older and Arya came along, they stopped playing as much but Jon never stopped wanting to make her happy. If he heard she wanted a particular type of snack, it’d appear in her room the next day. If boys were picking on her at school, Jon would take them aside and threaten them until they stopped. And when Harry cheated on her, he picked her up from the party, drove her around Winterfell all night until he finally got her to smile again.

But even as he did all these things, Jon never realised how he felt about Sansa. In his mind, she was a little sister he cared about but different from Arya because he knew the latter could take care of herself. With Sansa, he always told himself he paid extra attention because she was a fragile girl with a heart too big for her chest.

It was after the summer Sansa spent in Paris with her Aunt Lysa that everything changed. Those three months had been the longest they’d gone without seeing one another and when she came back, it was as if he was seeing her for the first time. Sansa Stark at fourteen was more beautiful than any girl he had ever met or known, and in those few seconds after she came home, Jon realised he was undeniably, helplessly, and ridiculously attracted to her.

But being seventeen and perpetually awkward around girls, Jon did what any kid his age would do: he pretended nothing had changed. If they had a party in the back garden and Sansa came out in a little sundress, Jon would volunteer to man the barbecue all afternoon just to avoid looking at her for too long. And if she asked him over to talk about boys like she used to before, Jon would just grit his teeth and imagine sicking one of the Stark dogs on them.

But it didn’t work – not that it mattered anyways.

Jon turned eighteen and moved to Edinburgh with Robb and Theon for university. He had had every intention of coming back, seeing her during holidays and allowing himself those brief moments of self-indulgence where he could just look and speak to her, but his mum died and going home didn’t feel so great anymore. He came for the funeral but he hardly remembered it. Everything blurred together in a dark haze and all he remembered was packing his things, selling the rest and moving everything to Edinburgh with the purpose of never returning.

He didn’t mean for it to happen. He wasn’t even sure how it did happen but after awhile, he lost contact with most of the Starks.

After his mum died, Jon dropped out of uni and started working in construction. He still saw Robb and Theon on the weekends but Robb eventually moved to Spain for his year abroad and stayed out there when he met a girl. Theon as well moved down to London to work for the family business after graduating. And everyone else just grew up without Jon realising the years had passed them by.

When he was twenty-five, he did think about reaching out again. He even reactivated his Facebook to look them up but that’s when he saw it: her engagement announcement. She was only twenty-two and she was already engaged. He couldn’t believe it; he especially couldn’t believe the blond-haired twat she was engaged to. The idea of really losing her felt like a distance too insurmountable for him and Jon decided to deactivate his Facebook and resign himself to the fact that that part of his life was really over.

So at twenty-nine, Jon is not bitter about the lost years but he’s not exactly thriving as he thought he’d be. He has a decent job managing the construction firm he joined ten years ago and a group of friends he has drinks with at the pub after work. He even has girlfriends from time to time but he doesn’t ever manage to fill the void where the Starks used to be. He doesn’t want to reach out either because the truth is he’s ashamed. Not just for letting them go so easily without a fight after all they did for him but for where he ended up. He’s not ashamed of who he is now, who he had to become after his mum died, but he does regret not going back to uni and making more of himself. He may not have had a dream but he does think he could have been something more.

That’s probably why when he does see one after all these years, he promptly decides to down the entire club’s collection of whiskey single-handedly.

Or maybe it’s just her that elicits this kind of response.

“Slow down,” Edd says, slapping at his hand as he’s reaching for the bottle once more. “I’m not carrying ya out of here. We already got our hands full with Mr Dancing Queen over there.” He gestures to the dancefloor where their big giant ginger friend is shaking his hips with a bunch of women from a hen do.

Jon snorts. “I’m fine,” he says with a wince. He managed to grab the bottle back and the whiskey is burning its way down the back of his throat. It stopped tasting like anything but regret several glasses ago.

“Clearly,” Edd rolls his eyes and snatches the bottle back to hand over to Sam on the other side of the table.

“What’s gotten into you?” Sam asks, those big eyes wide with concern, and because he’s so twisted up inside right now, Jon only feels resentment towards his friend.

“Nothing.”

But it’s not nothing. It’s very much something and she’s moving across the dancefloor, long red hair swishing behind her, as if she’s taunting him. He hasn’t seen her since she was sixteen but she must be twenty-six now. Fuck, she looks good. She looks so much better than good and it kills him.

Had he always had this strong of a reaction to her?

Jon doesn’t remember. He can’t even recall a single memory from the last time he saw her. The funeral had been so god-awful that all he wanted to do that day was disappear. And those weeks after. And the months after that.

She’s standing by the bar with her friend now and from this position, he can see her more clearly. She looks taller, more slender and toned than skinny, and she has a form-fitting emerald green dress on that is doing far more to him than he has any right to feel.

“Who’s the redhead?” Edd asks.

Jon curses under his breath and tears his gaze away. “Nothing. No one. I’m fine. Can we drop it?”

Edd glances at Sam and the two of them shrug but thankfully stay silent. His friends are observant and they can read him better than he gives them credit for but they also know when to push it and when not to. For that, he is grateful.

After a few minutes of tense silence, Tormund comes tumbling back towards their table and falls onto Edd, who kicks him hard. There’s a brief fight before the two settle down in their seats. Physically, Tormund resembles a terrifying red grizzly bear, but personality-wise, he’s more like a very horny golden retriever with little tact.

“If we want, they said we can join them!” Tormund exclaims happily.

Edd shakes his head. “You know their idea of a strip club doesn’t have women, right?”

The smile on his face slowly disappears, replaced by a pensive frown. “Then who does all the stripping?”

Sam hesitates. “Umm… men?”

“Dudes!?” Tormund shouts. “But why - oh, yeah that would make more sense.” He then shrugs. “I still wanna go. I mean I’ve never been to a dude strip club before. Maybe it could be educational.”

“Educational?”

“You know, for future moves,” Tormund smirks, wiggling his hips even though he’s seated. The rest of them groan and kick him again from all angles. He yelps but then laughs uproariously.

“I am not going to a male strip club just so you can learn some new moves,” Edd says flatly. “That requires a lot more alcohol than we’ve got.”

“Say no more!”

Tormund jumps out of his seat before either of them can tell him no and goes running across the club to the bar. Simultaneously, all three of them groan. It wouldn’t be the weirdest Saturday night they’ve ever had, not since Tormund joined the construction firm five years ago, but it’s definitely a lot more than Jon wants to deal with right now.

Although now that his attention is back on the bar, he doesn’t see her anywhere. At first, panic rises to his throat, but he reminds himself that he had no intention of speaking to her anyways so what’s the point? Sansa is his past, and even if circumstances were different, she’d never been his to have. He has no more claim to her than anyone else and just because, even after all this time, she still makes his heart race and his palms clam up, it doesn’t mean he should go talk to her. No, it definitely does not.

“Are we really going to go to a male strip club?” asks Sam with a resigned sigh.

“No,” Jon says.

“Probably,” Edd counters at the same time.

They look at each other and Jon cracks a smile for the first time tonight.

“Well, look at that, Broody Git Snow knows how to fucking smile for once,” Edd snorts. Jon lobs an ice cube at his friend’s head and the two chuckle. The anxiety is still knotted deeply in his stomach but some of it eases knowing his friends are all weird idiots that are there for him.

“Guess what!” Tormund shouts before he’s even reached the table (because he is that bloody loud). “I found my long lost sister! See, she’s ginger too!”

“What?” Sam immediately says.

Jon turns to look and his body goes cold.

“Jon?”

Her voice is still the same, yet it’s somehow older, more mature, and it twists him up inside. “Sansa,” he breathes out. Every nerve in his body is on fire and he’s dying to run away but he’s blocked in by Edd and Sam on one side and Tormund is now standing right in front of his only route of escape.

A brilliant smile appears on her face and Jon stands as she leans forward across the table. Her arms go around his neck and the feel of her sends his heart skittering at a worrying pace. He holds her anyways, hands wrapping around her slim waist, the tickle of her long hair against his cheek. She smells like Sansa: bright and fruity and all her.

God, is it possible to still be into her after all this time?

“How long has it been?” she asks, pulling back. Jon is reluctant to let go but he does. She smiles at him. “Robb’s never going to believe this.”

Robb…

 The Starks…

He remembers now why he didn’t want to talk to her. The shame of his own cowardice and weakness.

Jon’s smile is faint as he says, “yeah, it’s been a long time.”

Thankfully, before she can ask him any more questions, his drunk, beautiful friend says without tact, “as fun as this reunion is, do you girls wanna go to a strip club? A male strip club?”

The conversation immediately changes and everyone is joyously discussing whether they should go and why or why not it’s a good idea. Jon stays quietly out of the conversation; he’s trying pathetically not to look at her but even as kids, he was always acutely aware of her. Her movements, her laughter, just the way she speaks draws him in like no one ever has, and dimly he’s aware, like no one ever will.

After ten whole absurd minutes of discussion, they decide to go and Jon finds himself walking down Edinburgh at one in the morning with Tormund, Edd, Sam, Sansa and Sansa’s friend, Jeyne, who, he finds, is as exuberant and mischievous as Tormund is.

He trails behind, unable to join in the good-natured joking as he might’ve done another night. He’s watching his feet as he walks, trying to remember the last thing he ever said to Sansa, when she sidles up next to him.

“You’d think after ten years, you would’ve figured it out.”

Jon looks up, startled. “What?”

“I couldn’t understand it,” she continues on; either she didn’t hear him or she chose to ignore it. “At first, we all respected that you needed the space but you never came back. I don’t mean to Winterfell; I mean to us. We thought - well, we thought we were your family too. Robb especially. But not just him, you know?”

He doesn't have an answer for her. Nothing that makes sense anyways, so he stays silent and lets her get it all out.

“Can I be honest?” she asks, though it’s not a question that requires a response. “I was so angry with you for leaving us like that. I know we weren’t as close as you are with Robb or Arya, but I was still mad.” She chuckles softly, the sound bereft of humour. “I was mad at you for hurting them. We cared so much about you and it takes ten years for one of us to finally see you? And not even on purpose?”

Jon is trying to think of an appropriate response when she grabs his wrist and stops them. “Say something!”

“I wish I had something better to say to you,” he says, still not looking at her. “But people grow up, Sansa. They grow apart. I’m sorry it happened but that’s it.”

Unfortunately, he can sense her anger without having to even look at her. “What the fuck, Jon? Is that all you have to say?! You’re sorry? That’s it?”

Something snaps inside of him. Not anger but frustration. “What do you want me to say?” he responds. His eyes finally snap to hers, unable to hold it in any longer, and his breath catches in his throat at the way she’s glaring at him. “My mum died and I didn’t handle it well. I had to get out and I did. I’m sorry that it meant we lost touch.”

“You’re such an asshole,” she murmurs. She lets go of his hand and begins to walk off.

This is what he wanted, right? For everything to just go back to how it was, for Sansa to go home and forget about him like she’s done the past ten years. But why does the idea of that fill him with such dread? Why does every single cell in his body feel like it’s dying the further she moves away from him?

Jon pulls at the ends of his hair in frustration before running after her.

“I was a coward,” he shouts. Several drunken stragglers turn to look at him but he ignores them for the redhead currently standing stock-still a few feet away from him. “I was scared of – shit, I don’t know, everything, I guess.”

He walks forward, moving a little closer, but still giving her space.

“After my mum died, I couldn’t deal with anything. I dropped out of uni and I just fell apart but even as everything was going to shit around me, I didn’t want to involve any of you. Dumb as it might sound, I was trying to spare you guys all the hassle of putting up with me.”

Sansa does turn around at this but only to give him a repulsed look.

He laughs. “Yeah, I know. I was nineteen. Emotional maturity was not really my strong suit… not that I got any better.” He sighs and steps a little closer. “I didn’t want to go back to Winterfell. It was too painful but I never intentionally tried to cut you guys out. I still saw Robb and Theon and I just figured I’d have time to reconnect with the rest of you when you got older. But Robb and Theon both moved away and none of you came to Edinburgh so by then I just didn’t know how to keep in touch with anyone anymore.”

“You could’ve just rang us. Or even texted.”

“I tried.”

The anger around her eyes have softened and it feels like it’s time to come clean, even if it means he has to go back to never seeing her again, because the truth is – the stupid, absurd, inexplicable truth is he’s still in love with her.

“When?” she asks.

“When I was twenty-five,” he says slowly. “I logged onto Facebook for the first since uni and I clicked on your name and that’s when –” He stops, hesitates for a brief moment as self-doubt wars inside of him, but the curious look in her eyes urges him onwards. “You were engaged. You were engaged to some guy I had never even met, with a life I was never apart of, and I don’t know what killed me more. Knowing that I had already lost you to someone else or knowing that I had been the one to create this distance between us.”

Her eyes widen and her mouth parts but he doesn’t give her a chance to speak.

“I was a coward, Sansa. Instead of being happy for you, I ran away and by the time I realised how much of an ass I was being, it felt like it had already been too long and I was ashamed. I let go of the only family I ever really had because I was too scared to let any of you see how fucked up I really was. And – don’t get me wrong, I’m not unhappy now, but I never went back to uni. I never made something of myself and I didn’t know how to face up to that.”

“You know what’s the most fucked up part?” she asks but she doesn’t wait for his answer. “The part where you thought any of us would even care. Jon, did you know Arya left just before her third year of uni and ran off to Asia to go traveling with some guy she worked part-time at a garage with? Or that Robb knocked up that girl he met in Spain? Or that Bran nearly died because he was dumb enough to go climbing without a proper harness?”

She steps right into his personal space and says, “or that I got engaged to a complete and total wanker who decided to cheat on me with one of my bridesmaids?” She pokes him harshly in the chest. “We’re all fucked up. You don’t have a monopoly on making bad decisions, Jon Snow! But we’re family and we support each other even when we mess up!”

“I - I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t know! You didn’t even bother to reach out!” she shouts at him, her chest heaving up and down. “You didn’t even bother to ask if I felt the same way! You just assumed and assumed and left without so much as a word!” Tears began slipping rapidly down her wind-bitten cheeks. “You weren’t the only one who got their heart broken, you know?”

His heart feels like lead in his chest. He wants to reach out for her but he knows that’s the last thing she’d want. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Sansa. For everything. I know it’s too late now to ask for your forgiveness but I really am truly sorry.”

“There you go again, assuming!” Sansa grabs him by the collar of his shirt and pulls him towards her. Their lips crash together, painful and bruising, but the shock of it is quickly replaced by needy desperation. He pulls at her waist, fingers pressing into her skin, until they’re flushed against one another. It’s not the kind of first kiss he had always envisioned with Sansa; there’s no sweetness here, no whispered confessions of love or gentle shy touches. This is angry and aggressive; it’s a kiss born out of a decade of frustration and missed opportunities and terrible, pathetic mistakes.

When she pulls back, her lips are swollen and red. “I’m not forgiving you.”

“I know.”

“You hurt me, Jon. You really hurt us.”

“I know and I don’t deserve a second chance but if I had it, I would spend the rest of our lives making it up to you, to everyone.”

“They’d probably forgive you right away, you know? They don’t hold grudges. They just miss you.”

“But you hold grudges?”

There’s a faint smile on her lips and he can’t help kissing her again, just a small peck, brief and chaste.

“Oh yeah,” she says. “You might really have to spend the rest of your life making it up to me.”

He smiles now too. “I’d be more than happy to.”

“Good because for some stupid reason, I’m still in love with you and if you –” Sansa glares at him, tears springing to her eyes again. “If you leave again, I will never forgive you.”

“Sansa,” he murmurs softly, wiping at her tears with the pad of his thumb. “I’ve been in love with you since I was eight and spent the better part of ten years without you. I don’t want to ever do that again.” He presses his forehead against hers. “I promise. Never again.”

“Okay.”

He leans back to look at her, his heart beating wildly, feeling like this moment right here is too good to be true. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Jon nods. “Okay.”

[carryonmylovelies]

Heyyyyyyy my dude anyways can you write a fic that is literally just fluff and Simon spooning Baz? Cuz that's literally all I want in my life tbh (also you're lovely and amazing)

Hiiiiii my lovely anon!! Thank you so so much for being my first fic request, and I really, really hope you like this because I wrote it for you :D Let me know what you think of it! (I hope you don’t mind that I spiced it up a bit lol) I would also like to dedicate this to @bazypitchandsimonsnow because Theo is my best friend and she���s always there for me and this could not have been made without her. I love youuuu here on ao3)

Eyes On Me, Please

Baz

It’s been a long day. Two of my uni professors were late, arriving in a tired mess of coffee, ungraded papers, and the general mood of not wanting to be there, and one of them just didn’t fucking show up. I had to write a five page essay twice (I don’t want to talk about it), the students in my mathematics class wouldn’t shut up about communism, and the cafeteria didn’t have my salt and vinegar crisps.

I am very much ready to be home, in the flat I share with my best friend and my lovely, crazy hot boyfriend, and in said hot boyfriend’s arms, furiously making out with him. (I swear to Merlin, I should not be allowed to be in a relationship. Thoughts of the next time I can get Simon under me and in between the sheets of the queen-sized bed we share threaten to overwhelm every bloody rational thought I have throughout my day. I’m not going to lie; it’s a bit hard to focus on my professor explaining William of Tyre and the diplomacy of the Byzantine empire when all I can hear is the exact sound Simon makes when I bite the inside of his upper thigh.)

I am too goddamn thirsty.

I finally arrive at my door, exhausted, hungry, and a little turned on. I weakly hit my fist against the door. No answer. I knock again, more forceful this time, but I still don’t get a response.

“Fuckers!” I yell, digging for my keys in my bag and shifting my books to the other arm. 

I jam my key in the lock, wiggle it, and push the door open, letting it slam against the wall with a dull thud. That will totally leave a mark, but it feels good to do a little damage.

I kick off my shoes and leave my bag by the door, the flat sounding unnaturally quiet. I walk into our light, airy kitchen and notice that Bunce has buried herself in a book that’s larger than her head again, and it looks so old I think she has a bit of dust on her nose. I flick the side of her pastel-purple head as I walk by, and she doesn’t even look up as she flips me off. I smirk, and make my way to the our living room, which is stuffed with chairs and pillows and a large couch, all surrounding the television.

I find my boyfriend lounging, one elbow propped up on the top of the couch, his long legs and tail dangling off of the end, and his wings falling lazily around his shoulders. His white earbuds peek out from behind his curls, and he’s looking at his phone like he’s about to throw it at the wall. His fingers furiously tap at the screen.

I stand in front of him and put my hands on my hips because this situation is very deserving of my signature hands-on-hips look.

He continues to play his game, and I can make out the sounds of violence and fighting spilling from his earbuds. How mature.

“Snow.”

He doesn’t hear me.

“Snow.”

Still nothing.

“Snow, I’m leaving you. I’m leaving you for that cute barista at Starbucks.”

He is so engrossed in his game he probably doesn’t know what day it is let alone who’s right bloody in front of him, trying to engage him in conversation.

“Snow, you hear that? I’m leaving you for a fucking barista. No one can make a pumpkin mocha breve like Dave from Starbucks can.”

“We’re gonna have six children and name them all after you.”

“I would bake him sour cherry scones every morning.”

“Snow, I’m going to go walk down to the Starbucks right now and have sex with Dave the barista all over our favorite table in the corner.”

Bunce yells at me from the kitchen, “Basil, as much as I want this one-sided conversation to continue because it is fucking hilarious to listen to, he cannot hear you, so you better think of something else.”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up,” I respond, and she peeks around the corner and gives me a very reassuring thumbs up.

He has not acknowledged my existence in the 3 minutes that I have been home, and 2 of those minutes I spent physically speaking to him, so this calls for something a little bit stronger. I leave my stupidly attractive boyfriend (emphasis on the stupid) with his unruly curls and blue eyes glued to his phone, alone on the couch as I walk determinedly into our room.

I slip off my shirt and trousers and pull on the pair of jeans that I know are Simon’s favorite (plus they make my arse look illegal) and one of his worn jumpers. It’s a bit big for me; he has broader shoulders and more of a stomach, but the length of it is about the same. He knows that I know how much he loves it when I wear his clothes, so getting him to notice me should be easy now. And yes, I am going to all this trouble to get my very own boyfriend to notice me, and it’s because I am extremely petty and over-dramatic and because I really fucking love it when he looks at me like he’s starving and I’m the last sour cherry scone in the world. Sue me.

I saunter out, ready for the final part of my plan, and I suddenly can’t help but enjoy the sight for just a moment. The sun is slowly fading from the living room, but that doesn’t stop it from catching on the ends of Simon’s bronze curls, dousing them in a burnt orange, and the moles and freckles on his face and neck are just begging for lips to press against them. His blue eyes glow with the light from his phone and I just can’t take it anymore.

I cross the room in two strides and throw myself into his lap, promptly ending whatever game he was playing.

I expect Simon to be mad, or at least annoyed, but to my delight Simon just laughs, throwing his phone and earbuds onto the carpet and kissing my cheek. He slides back into the corner of the couch and takes me with him, pulling me to sit in between his legs. His arms snake around my waist, his fingers gripping my sides possessively and his chest is a solid warmth against my back. I sigh, and let my head fall onto his shoulder. He kisses the top of my nose.

“Hello,” he says, and I drown in his smile.

“Hi,” I say back, and then I pinch his arm. Hard.

“Owww! That hurt,” Simon whines, glaring at me.

I pout, “Well, you shouldn’t have ignored me when I got home! I’ve had a very long day.”

“I was busy,” he says sulkily, pushing his nose into my hair.

“Oh yes, you were very busy … playing on your phone.”

“… I was about to reach my high score.”

“And I was tired and stressed from school! All I wanted was some bloody love and affection from my adoring boyfriend but I guess that’s too much to ask from a prat like you.”

He growls and tightens his hold on me. I inhale sharply at the sound, and shift in his lap, cursing Simon for having growls like that.

He pushes his face into my hair and his hot breath makes the back of my neck tingle. Then he raises his head sharply, and squeezes my waist.

“Hey, is this my shirt?”

“Yes.”

He groans and falls back into my hair, “I love it when you wear my stuff.”

“I know,” I say, smugly.

He bites my neck (who’s the real vampire in this relationship?) and then presses a kiss to the same spot.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention to you when you got home. And I’m sorry you had a hard day,” he mumbles. “Wanna talk about it?”

I open my mouth to tell him about the stressors of my day but surprisingly I’m not really bothered by them anymore. Hatching a plan to get your boyfriend to notice you is a great way to de-stress, with the added bonus of your plan working and now you just get to relax while he spoons you.

His arms are tight and hot across my middle, and his chest is practically forcing heat into me. Everywhere he’s touching me I’m burning up. And I love it. He smells like scones and my expensive shampoo even though I tell him not to use it and to use his own fucking shampoo. His legs are flush against the outside of mine, and I unconsciously snuggle closer to him, turning my head so I can press my lips to one of the moles on his shoulder.

“No, I’m okay, now.”  

Penny

I watch them from the doorway of the kitchen, and I’m glad to see that they worked things out. They’re talking now, in low voices, sharing smiles and small laughs. Simon has draped himself all over Baz, and Baz looks like there is nowhere else in this world he would rather be. Although, they aren’t really in this world anymore; they’re both in a world all on their own.  

They make each other so happy. Anyone can see it. It’s in the way Simon’s tail winds itself around Baz’s legs whenever he’s close by. It’s in the way Baz’s eyes light up whenever Simon walks into a room. It’s in the way they slowly built each other back up after the worst time of our lives, and it’s in the way they continue to hold each other when one of them feels like falling and not getting back up. I truly, only wish the best for them.

With their soft voices floating in from the living room and the hum of the refrigerator in the back of my mind, it’s easy to slip back into my book.

The next time I look up I’m not sure how long I’ve been reading for, but I can tell that something is  … off. I set my book down on the counter and pop my head around the corner.

God dammit they’re at it again!

I swear the number of times I have caught them on that fucking couch doing what they are now two seconds away from doing is a number higher than any of us want to admit.

I clap my hands a few times, disrupting the quiet, and they slowly break apart. Simon looks a little sheepish, but Basil looks like he has no regrets, whatsoever.

“Basilton Pitch! Simon Snow! Now, I know this may blow your small, idiotic minds, but I need you to stay with me through this okay?” I ask, cheerily, with a bright smile plastered across my face.   

They both stare at me.

“You two, have this thing, called a ‘bedroom’. Spell it with me, b-e-d-r-o-o-m. Do you know what bedrooms are for? They are for where all of THAT,” I gesture frantically at their tangled bodies, “belongs. Not. On. The. Fucking. Couch. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Penny,” Simon sulks, and he starts to get up but Baz yanks him back down.

“No,” Baz says, looking at me with a challenge in his eyes, “She’s not going to do anything.”

“Oh, shit. I wouldn’t test me if I were you, Basil. I really wouldn’t.”

Baz shoots me a long, cool look before grabbing Simon, pinning him to the couch, and kissing Simon like it’s the last fucking thing he’ll ever do.

I scream, and storm into the bathroom. I snatch up the squirt bottle I use for my hair in the mornings, and stomp back out to the eager 20-year-olds who are practically fornicating on. My. Couch.

I walk right up to them and unleash hell. I squirt water on them furiously, screaming at them to use their own fucking bedroom. They both shriek and roar with laughter, so I spray them harder. They stumble/fall into their room, and I personally slam the door closed.

I yell at them, “Fuck you both!”

They don’t answer.

[theshrubbery]

The next chapter of my fic - I’ve been so busy lately moving to uni I’ve barely had time for tumblr (i know, the travesty)

I hope you enjoy the chapter!

SIMON

Baz opens his door with a muted groan but somehow it feels as though he were expecting me to find my way back here. He leans in the doorframe, looking as though he’s aiming for something casual that he can’t quite pull off with the rigidity of his shoulders. His dark hair is mussed about his face, his golden skin glittering in the dim lighting of the hallway. Baz wears a loose-fitting white t-shirt and some pyjama bottoms that hang low on his hips—I think it’s the least casual I’ve ever seen him and I wonder why it makes my heart stutter.

“Snow,” Baz says, snapping me back to the present. Baz crosses his arms and then crosses his ankles, he looks like he’s trying to twist himself into the doorway.

“I can’t stay in that room,” I tell Baz as matter-of-factly as I can manage with the way my mouth has ran dry. I’ll have to make Baz get me a drink, or ask one of his maids or butlers or whatever it is he has get me something.

“I’m sure you can,” Baz replies. I shift from foot to foot for a moment, look behind me down the hallway as though whatever creepy creature-from-the-underworld that was lurking under the bed is going to come barrelling up towards me at any moment to finish the job.

“No, I—I really can’t.” I clear my throat, look at Baz, look away from Baz, look behind me again. “I think it’s haunted.” Baz, the fucking bastard, bursts out laughing obnoxiously at me and I fluster, stuttering to try and explain myself, but Baz uncrosses his ankles and kicks the door further open, rolling along the door-frame and inviting me in with a nod of his head.

I take a tentative step into the room, all too aware of Baz’s eyes on me as I do, as though he’s searching me for a reaction, or maybe regretting ever letting me in his house in the first place.

“You can sleep on there.” Baz gestures to the sofa at the end of his bed. It’s wooden-framed with thick green cushions, it looks like the kind of sofa you’d find in an antique store, definitely not one out the eternal DFS sale. Then I notice something even stranger.

“Gargoyles?” I crane my neck to squint through the dusky darkness of the room to see what are definitely ugly little gargoyles carved into the woodwork of Baz’s bedframe. I’ve always known that Baz was evil, and that, by default, he must have an evil lair in which to do his bidding, but this really was just too much. “What the fuck, Baz?”

“Snow, that bed is older than both of us put together, I didn’t choose to be guarded by fucking gargoyles while I sleep,” Baz says, exasperated.

“You always told me you didn’t have a lair.” I look around the room, take a whiff of the mustiness clinging to the dust and cobwebs.

“This isn’t a lair, Snow.” Baz drags a hand down his face, keeping his mouth covered as he stares blankly at me.

“It so fucking is, Baz, there’s even, like, eighteen layers of dust and cobwebs in here.”

“Snow, are you thick? You do know we go to boarding school together, right? You know, we share a room. As in, how often do you think I’m actually ever in this room, you absolute tit.” I feel the colour rise in my cheeks, a flush of embarrassment and a rush of frustration.

“Fuck off, Baz,” I say, and I hate the look of satisfaction that flits across Baz’s face. We both know he’s won.

Baz walks over to his bed, it’s twice as wide as the beds at Watford, and tosses two fluffed-up pillows at me. Before I can turn to put them down on the sofa, he balls up a thick blanket that was ruffled up at the bottom of his bed and throws that at me too. I barely have time to react before I’m throwing the pillows to the floor and stepping forwards to catch the blanket, which uncoils from the scrunched ball Baz had compressed it into and gets trapped beneath my foot as I step forwards. I fall into the pile of pillows and blanket with a heavy thud and for a moment I’m sure that I’m going to fall through Baz’s bastard floorboards, but, thankfully they hold.

With the blanket partially over my head, I can feel myself gearing up to smack Baz round the face and give him a piece of my mind for being such an ass but then I hear something that stops me. Baz is laughing. As in, genuinely laughing. Even muffled through the blanket, I find that it’s one of the strangest sounds I’ve ever heard. My throat tightens as Baz tries to say something to me, probably to call me a fucking idiot, only for his mirth to bite off the end of his word and swallow his insults in the thick honey of his laughter. It’s endearing, somehow, even if it is at my expense.

I’m not sure what this feeling is. I’m not sure I want to explain it. So I do the only thing I can think to do, rip myself free from the blankets, take up arms with a cushion in each hand, raised above my head, and with a battle cry launch myself into Baz. I feel the impact of his body against mine as I send him flailing down into his bed, pummelling him in the face with my fists of cushioned glory.

“Fuck—Snow, what—!” Baz splutters out, squawking in such an undignified way I almost forget all his prestigious upbringings. I’ve never seen Baz look so unkempt as he does now, earlier when I saw him in pyjamas I thought thatwas the least put-together I’d seen him but this, this is something else. His hair, with no gel to hold it back, falls over his face and around his head in a dark halo, his high cheekbones are a deep, deep pink, and his grey eyes are shining something fierce.

“Die, Pitch! Die!” I yell as I whack him in the face again with a pillow. He barks out a laugh and begins to wrestle me for it. He kicks out his legs and hooks them behind mine, pulling me forwards so I fall on top of him from where I was previously kneeling over him. As my chest thumps against his, I lose my grip on the pillows, mostly out of shock, and he quickly takes them off me, both of them, the twat, and gives me a taste of my own medicine.

“How do you like that then, Snow? Not such a prodigy now, are you?” Baz jeers, rolling us over so he’s straddling me, pinning me to the mattress where he sits on my hips. Baz raises his arm and hits me in the face, the shoulder, with the soft weapon of death, and I raise my arms to try and stop him, I can’t help but laugh. In that moment I forget that I hate Baz, I consider, for a moment, that maybe we can be friends after all.

“Give me a pillow, this isn’t fair!” I cry, grabbling at everything I can reach, which doesn’t happen to be very much, until Baz loses his balance and pitches forwards down, down, towards me. Pillows forgotten, he catches himself with his hands, pinned either side of my head, and, when he looks down at me, it’s with this kind of stricken expression. His face seems to get even redder, a thick vein is beginning to protrude from his forehead. Baz’s breath hitches, and I feel frozen to the spot, unable to do anything but look up at Baz looking down at me. Then his eyes widen almost comically and Baz seems to come back to himself.

“Get the fuck out of my bed,” Baz says lowly, almost spits it, and the moment is broken, whatever kind of moment that was.

“What?” I stutter dumbly for a moment, I can’t understand what just happened, what had caused the sudden change in Baz’s demeanour. He kicks me in the side, harshly, and I jolt up and off the bed, my lips curling back as I glare at him.

“Why do you have to be such a fucking bastard, Baz,” I grind out as I snatch the pillows from his bed, the blanket up from off the floor, and lob it angrily onto the sofa. “I don’t know why the fuck I agreed to go along with this, you’re an insufferable prick.”

Baz at least had the decency not to reply. I fix up my make-shift bed and yank the blanket over me, staring, scowling, into the depths of Baz’s stupid room and wondering why I ever thought fraternizing with the enemy could be a good idea.

BAZ

I’m really letting this go too far. I almost lost it for a moment there, I know I did, seeing Snow pinned beneath me like that was like every wet dream I’d ever had and I was seconds away from kissing him. And, if I’d sat on him any longer than I did, I’d have had a far bigger problem than just kissing him. I’m disgusted with myself. For taking advantage of him like this. For the way even now, my mind is tracing the heavy, solid warmth of Snow pressed against the backs of my thighs. The way he’d lay there, his mouth parted, his lips looking so soft and his skin so flushed and lovely. He’d looked windswept and happy and—God, I need to get a fucking grip on myself before I do something I regret.

I look over towards the sofa, where Snow is laying, and I can tell that he’s stewing. He’s not sleeping yet, but I know he will be soon. I’m in so deep I’ve even mapped his stupid breathing patterns before he falls into sleep. Some nights, listening to Snow’s steady sleep-breathing is the only thing keeping me sane. I just wish I could feel the heat of his breath against my neck as he slept, instead of watching from across the room, in separate beds, aching to hold him close.

This is torture.

But I can’t let myself run away with this, I can’t lose Snow completely, even if to be near him I do have to play the role of his nemesis. Whatever he wants, I will be that.

I sit on the edge of my bed, taking one last look at the tuft of Snow’s curly hair I can see just peeking out from between the blanket and the cushions, and then I get under my own covers, willing myself to dream of anything other than blue eyes and golden hair.

I wake up to the most ridiculously ear-splitting screech I think I’ve ever heard. My heart almost breaks my ribs at the sudden startle as I sit bolt-upright and try to work out what’s going on and why Snow is sitting at the end of my bed and why my sister is standing gawping, pointing at us, in the doorway.

“Mordelia!” I snap. How many fucking times do I have to tell her to knock the fucking door?

“Holy shit,” Snow says breathlessly, clutching at his chest with both hands, sitting hunched on my bed. Why he’s on my bed, I don’t know. Snow always has had a habit of waking up before me, but that’s no reason to perv on me in my sleep or whatever it was he was doing—on second thoughts, I don’t really have a right to say anything there.

“Why is there a boy in your bed, Baz!” Mordelia screeches, her little hand jumping from me to Snow and back again. Suddenly she gasps, her hands flying to cover her mouth. “Are you two doing s—”

“Mordelia!” I cut her off immediately. She’s just a kid, where in fuck’s name did she hear that shit? “Get out right now, what have I told you about knocking?”

“But, Baz, I was told to come get you!” She defended, throwing her hands down to her sides in a tantrum. It’s times like these that I can see just how useless Daphne’s blood is, though I love Mordelia, she will never have the dignity my mother gave me.

“What’s going on?” Snow asks, finally unclenching his hands from his t-shirt. I can see him looking at me out the corner of my eye but I don’t quite feel ready to give him full eye contact just yet.

“My sister, Mordelia,” I say. “Mordelia, meet Simon Snow.”

“Simon Snow?” Mordelia repeats, taking another step into the room and scrutinising Snow like he’s some sort of fascinating bug. “Wait! Are you—”

“Yes, he’s my boyfriend. Now go away, tell father we shall be down shortly, I presume it’s he who sent you.”

“I’m n—” Snow startles, cutting himself off before he can finish the exclamation that was most likely going to deny being my boyfriend. What an idiot. He’s been here a day and he’s already forgotten what the job at hand is. I glare at him, watching the perfect ‘o’ of his mouth as realisation washes over him and he laughs nervously, muttering out a quiet “never mind”.

“Boyfriend?” Mordelia gasps, as though her mind can’t possibly comprehend the concept of me having a partner. My sister hurriedly looks between us one more time and then runs from the room, the sound of her wretched high-pitched yelling pattering further and further away from us as she shouts for Daphne to tell her of Snow. Daphne, of course, already knows. Father told her before she left to collect Mordelia from her own boarding school, a bit cruel, I think, sending a seven-year-old to boarding school but it isn’t my place to judge.

“Shit, what now?” Snow gapes at me. For an alleged genius, Snow sure is a damned dumbo.

“What do you mean, ‘what now’?” I throw my hands up in exasperation, “have you forgotten what you’re doing here?” Snow pauses, his mouth snaps shut. He at least has the decency to look embarrassed.

“Sorry, Baz,” he murmurs.

“Whatever.” I drop my hands against the sides of my legs with a soft pat and begin rifling through my wardrobe for something to wear. “Best get ready for the day.”

“Right,” Snow says. I can feel an awkwardness in the air. Tense and palpable. It’s like wading through molasses. It’s my fault, I can’t blame Snow for what happened last night, so I don’t. But that doesn’t mean I can go soft on him, no, Snow would only think something was wrong if I didn’t act like I hated him in these moments when we’re alone.

It all seems kind of backwards to me. Hating each other in private and loving each other in public.

“I’m using the bathroom first,” I tell him, neatly folding my clothes over my arm and making my way for the door. “Of course, there are plenty other bathrooms for you to use if you fancy taking a gander down these haunted corridors of mine.”

“I’m not scared,” Snow replies too quickly for him to pretend he’s anything but petrified of our alleged poltergeists and the flush of his cheeks proves this.

“Right, sure, well, you go tell those ghosts that, then.” I smirk at him over my shoulder, in that specific way I have cultivated purely to get under his skin, and then close the door behind me. I pretend not to hear the pillow that thuds against the door moments later.

I get ready as quickly as I can, not wanting to leave Snow unattended for any longer than possible. Trouble is, quite simply, attracted to him. He just can’t help but wade through it, and I’d like to get through this week with as few incidents as possible, thank you very much, but halfway through buttoning my deep-green shirt I pause, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly in an uncertain exhale. I hold onto the rim of the sink, leaning over it and staring down the plughole as I try to will myself to get a grip. I can feel an uneasy frustration bubbling through my gut, making me feel restless and irritated. Slamming the tap on, I splash my face with cold water, startling a little at the shock of the cold. The water is always fucking freezing in October. Stupid plumbing.

I take another deep breath and grip the basin again, looking up at my reflection in the mirror, watching the droplets of water dribble down my face and drip off my chin, the tips of my hair.

“Get a fucking grip, Pitch,” I tell myself. I feel like a right arsecrack but it’s the best I can do. Watching my own reflection, I try to school my features into something more…passive. My usual impassivity seems to have deserted me, and it takes effort to stop myself looking so hopeless and pissed off. I give myself a smile, thinking of Snow as I do, just to see what I look like when I think of him.

Bollocks. At least I know my so-called act is believable. If Snow notices anything, I’ll just have to tell him I’m an excellent actor and hope he buys it.

On the way back to my room, I give myself a pep talk, try to make myself more casual, more natural. Basically trying to find a way to hide the fact that I’m in love with Simon Snow from Simon Snow whilst also pretending that I’m pretending to be in love with Simon Snow. It’s kind of pathetic really, but I think I’m making progress.

Then, just when I’ve erased all traces of anger, annoyance, frustration, all of that, I open my bedroom door, take one blasted look at Snow, and it all comes flooding right back. And this is because sitting there, on the floor, is Snow rifling through my hidden articles of my mother’s murder, holding the only photo I have of us together in his hand.

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Mystery Man

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 5077

Summary: Deciding to be more social, Simon goes to a masquerade ball fundraiser. Based on "shy kiss" to "steamy kiss" request.

Read on AO3

AN: See? I am actually working through these requests! It's just taking awhile. Hope you like it!

Simon

A masquerade ball. What a strange idea. The student union is trying to find more “creative” ways to raise funds. Guess a rich university like Watford can afford to be creative. They’ve rented out some fancy hotel ballroom nearby, got the art department to make masks, the drama department to loan costumes, and for 20 quid a person, you can dance with fellow students. It’s absolutely ludicrous. And possibly fun. I desperately need some fun.

“I can’t believe you’re going to this thing, Simon,” Penny mutters as she picks at her chicken.

“Why?” I say, mouth filled with turkey and mayo.

“Because you rarely go out, period. Plus you’re an awful dancer.”

I shrug. “I just want to have some fun. If you haven’t noticed, Pen, I’m beyond anti-social. Especially since Agatha broke up with me.” I angrily bite my sandwich. It’s only been a few weeks. The wound is still sorta raw.

Penny sighs and hangs her head. “Fine, whatever. Have fun. I’m going to stay home and study.”

“You should go to the library and join Baz. The stupid prick has spent most of his time there since October. He always leaves before I wake up and comes back after I’m asleep.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

I shrug again. “I guess. At least I don’t have to listen to him complain about the open windows anymore.”

We both laugh at that, but quickly fall back into silence. I finish my turkey club in two bites and move on to the cherry scone. As I’m buttering it, I freeze. Something processes through my brain. Penny looks at me quizzically.

“What?” she says.

I point my blunt knife at her. “What do you mean awful dancer!?”

Penny bursts out laughing. We enter a long discussion on the merits of my rhythmic movement capabilities. I argue that jumping up and down does qualify as dancing. At least in clubs it does.

When I get to my room after class the next day, a figure in a grey hoodie is rummaging through Baz’s things.

“Hey what the hell are you doing?!” I yell.

The person whips around, and I immediately relax. It is Baz. With his large, slightly tinted glasses sliding down on his long nose, and wavy black hair falling like a curtain in front of his face. He looks at me with mouth hung open in shock. I let out a long breath.

“Jesus Baz, you scared the shit out of me. Since when do you come in here?”

Baz pulls the large hardcover books into his chest. “Sorry to disturb you with my presence, Snow,” he mutters in his small voice.

Baz Pitch is a very weird guy. He’s always so pulled in and bent over. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him stand at his full height. (He’s going to be a hunchback by the time we graduate.) He rarely talks to me, just stares and looks away when I notice. We’ve been uni roommates for 6 months, and he’s said maybe a total of fifteen words to me. And all those words have been complaints or insults. So pretty much, he’s an awkward asshole in an oversized hoodie.

I roll my eyes. “Whatever. Be like that. I’m taking a shower.”

I stomp into the bathroom. I hear Baz scurry away and close the door behind him, then breath a sigh of relief. I’m actually glad he’s rarely here anymore. His presence makes me so anxious. It’s like walking on eggshells around him.

I shake Baz out of my mind. No need for that brain clutter. I have to take a shower, do my homework, and then go to this masquerade thing. I can’t be late.

I’m fucking late. I got caught up watching telly in the common room and completely lost track of time. Now I’m hopping out of the tube and booking it to this silly hotel. God, this better all be worth it.

I stumble through the huge double doors. Trixie, decked out in her fancy gown and fairy mask, is at the table.

“Hi, Simon...” she says.

“Hi,” I pant out, “sorry I’m late. Is... is there still time to sign up?”

Trixie looks down at her clipboard. “Actually, you’re lucky, we’ve got one costume left. 20 quid and it’s your’s.”

I nod vigorously, slapping a bill on the table. Trixie smiles and picks up a suit bag. She motions for me to follow. We go to the men’s room. She hands me the bad.

“Put this on. Mask and all, please. Event starts in 10 minutes, alright?”

“Sure thing, Trixie.”

I’m left alone in the toilet. In a stall, I unzip the outfit. It’s a ridiculously decadent, velvety thing. It consists of a white shirt, grey waistcoat, navy jacket with silver embroidery, matching pants, cravat, white tights, and black buckled shoes. At the top is a the mask. It would cover the area around my eyes, with a little crescent moon twisting out to my forehead. The grey surface and pearly accents glow under the LED light fixture.

“This is what I signed up for,” I sigh.

Can’t take back the 20 quid, I guess.

The room is bustling with fancy dressed people. A veritable sea of fluffy white shirts and ball gowns. Those masks really do their job. I can barely recognise anyone. (Or maybe I just don’t know anyone. God I’m anti-social.) I do notice Agatha, though. Her corn blonde hair is very memorable. He’s in a lovely soft pink dress with a flowery mask. I run away before she has a chance to see me. Yes, I’m a coward, and I’m fully okay with that.

There’s a food table at the back. Not anything fancy, just crackers and cheese and shit. But I’ll eat anything when I’m stressed. I wolf down a few, chewing loudly (Penny always complains about how loud I chew.)

“Maybe you should save some for the rest of us,” a smooth, melodious voice says from in front of me.

My head snaps. The man standing there, he’s... beautiful. I know he must be from our school, but I'm pretty sure I would’ve noticed a guy this handsome. He’s wearing an outfit like mine but it's bright scarlet. While mine hangs off me, his fits him perfectly, outlining his tall, graceful figure. He’s all reds and golds, from his sparkling embroidered jacket to his skin tone. His mask is styled like a dragon. It covers the whole top half of his face, and flares outwards with black and red flaps. Four twisty horns, two big and two small, poke out from the top. His gorgeous grey eyes sparkle with his playful smile.

“Um, you want some?” I say, mouth still full.

He chuckles. It’s as sweet as honey. “No, I’m quite alright. More here for the dancing than the food.”

I swallow my snacks. “Well, I want to dance too, but I’ve recently been informed that I can’t dance.”

“I’m sure you can. Anyone can with a little practice.”

I smile. “Thanks for the vote of confidence... hey I didn’t get your name?”

Mystery Man freezes for a second. He looks genuinely shocked. Is it taboo to ask for names at these things? It’s not like I have a point of reference. The shock fades back into his smirk. He leans forward until our faces are inches apart. I can feel my insides twist and turn. His voice comes out as a breathy whisper.

“Isn’t it far more exciting to stay behind the mask?”

I hope this mask hides my creeping blush. “Y-Yeah, I guess.”

He smiles devilishly, showing his shining white teeth. “Excellent.”

“Hello?” A tinny voice rings out of the mic. I look to see Trixie standing at the front, next to her equally fancy dressed (I assume) girlfriend. (Those two are joined at the hip.) “This thing on? Oh goody. Hello everyone, and welcome to the first ever Watford Masquerade Ball!”

We all clap politely.

“Now, we’re going to try a sort of old fashioned baroque dance. Usually this kind of thing is done with 8 people, and we’ve got 24 here, but we’ll make it work. Now everyone grab a partner, no matter boy or girl. Baroque dancing is ludicrously gendered, but this is the modern age dammit. One of you, go line up on the left, with your partner doing the same on the right.”

I guess everyone came with partners because they line up very fast. Most of the girls choose the right, while the guys go left. (Despite Trixie’s effort, heteronormativity wins out again.) I look at Mystery Man. He offers his hand across the table with a half smile. “May I have this dance?”

God I hope my blush isn’t too bad. All I can manage is to nod dumbly and take his hand. He leads us towards the dance floor.

“Who’s gonna go to the girl side?” I whisper.

“I can, if you like,” he replies. “I’m very secure in my masculinity.”

I chuckle, earning a smile from him. “Very well then.”

Mystery Man stands in the line opposite me, along with the girls and the few other boys. I put my hands behind my back and square my shoulders. Sure, I’m terrified, but I’m also very excited. I’m certainly having fun.

“Now," Trixie starts, "this is an amalgam of baroque movements we’ve come up with in the dance department. I’ll guide you through it. Good?” There are no dissenting voices. “Alright let’s get this shit started!” Trixie yells, in true classic masquerade ball fashion.

She hits a button on her smartphone plugged into the speakers. Upbeat violin and flute music starts playing. It’s not exactly the dance music I’m used to, but I can see how someone could move to this beat.

“We start with an acknowledgement. Left side, bow to your partners.”

I watch the guy beside me cross his legs over each other, put an arm in front and on his back, and lean forward. I quickly copy him. And nearly fall on my face, stumbling forward.

“Right side, your turn.”

The ladies curtsey gracefully. Mystery Man bows perfectly, of course. He’s amazing.

“Both sides, take three steps into the centre.”

We do as Trixie says. I’m a bit too far away, but take a baby step forward. Mystery Man seems to find this amusing. I look away. He taps my foot, making me face up. He’s smiling softly. And all my anxiety just kind of, floats away.

“Left, raise your right hand up and hold it sideways, facing your right. Stay there, don’t move. Right, touch your hand to your partners.”

Cautiously, I raise my hand. Mystery Man meets me, lightly pressing our palms together. His hands are kind of rough, but I like it. Little sparks dance across my nerve endings with every scratch of his skin.

“Now everyone, take a two little skips forward, then back. Watch me.” She sort of daintily gallops forward then back again. Like a tiny heeled pony. “Now go!”

I try my best to trot forward. My black heels click on the marble floor. I stumble a bit, but Mystery Man catches me discreetly with his other hand. The second time, I do it much better. I grin at my achievement, and so does he.

“Slowly, walk in a circle with your hands still together. Try to look at your partner and not your feet.”

I look up at him. He still has that beautiful happy expression. Yeah, I can definitely look at that. We walk together. I let him set the pace. Our eyes are totally locked. Everything around his face disappears. All I can see is this dragon boy I’m dancing with.

“Stop! That’s good. Face each other, and take both of each other’s hand at your sides.”

Our hands fumble a bit, but we get a good grip.

“This is the really fun part. While still holding hands, swing your arms and spin around. Like this.”

Trixie grabs Keris’ hands. They turn on the spot, throwing their arms up in a huge circle. It actually looks pretty fun.

“Now you all try it!”

I look to my partner with a grin. With a preparatory small sway, we toss our hands up into the air. I spin easily wearing these ridiculous shoes on this overly polished floor. I laugh like a little kid on the playground. When we stop, I wobble a bit (I get dizzy easily.) Mystery Man steadies me again. He’s grinning too.

“We’re at the end of the sequence now. Let’s top it off with two claps!” Trixie claps hand in rapid succession.

Mystery Man and I pull away, then the room rings with clapping. Trixie squees and jumps up and down. (She’s very easily excited.)

“Amazing everyone! I think you’ve got the jist of it. I say, let’s do this all again two more times. Three is a wonderful number.”

I look towards my new dragon masked friend. “Ready to do this again?” I say.

He shrugs. “Well, will I have to catch you again?” I open my mouth to make a retort, but he leans forward and my brain practically shuts down. All I can think about is how close his lips are to mine. “Because I gladly would.”

Words dissolve on my tongue. I’m usually able to squeeze out some fumbling semblance of speech, but now I can’t even manage that. I’m too enthralled, too stunned. to say anything. I feel like I’m falling. But I don’t want to stop.

We repeat the dance twice more. I don’t stumble as much as I did the first time. We move gracefully in time with the music. Every touch of our hands feels like magic. I’m enjoying myself more than I have in months. And I get what I want. I keep falling, more and more with each step.

The dance ends. We all bow one last time. (I can do it perfectly now.) Everyone applauds, turning to Trixie. She curtsies politely, obviously trying to hide her embarrassed flush. She runs up to her mic.

“Nice job, you all!” she says. “It was lovely. Now, at the request of my ballroom dance loving girlfriend, she wants us to end with her favourite, the waltz. And since I can’t say no to her,” she clicks a button on her phone, “let’s finish this evening off with a waltz!”

Soft music of a different kind plays. People start spinning and swaying together. I freeze. I was mostly clueless before, but here I’m completely fucking lost. At least Trixie was shouting instructions at me. I turn to Mystery Man. He must see the concern on my face, because his lips pinch together.

“What’s wrong?” He says kindly.

“I... I have no clue how to waltz. Like, you saw me before. My friend’s right, I’m a terrible dancer. I barely keep from tripping over my own feet. And this time no one’s yelling the moves out! I-”

“Shh.” He takes his hand in mine. Worry seeps out of me with his touch. “It’s alright. You don’t have to. But, if you like,” he puts his palm against my upper back, making me inhale sharply, “I do know the dance. And I can lead.”

This evening has been incredible so far. I don’t want it to end. So I nod slowly. “Okay. Sounds good to me.”

He smiles, and lifts our joined hands until our arms are outstretched. I bring my other hand up, but I have no idea where to put it, so it falls uselessly.

“Put it on my shoulder,” he whispers. I do, holding him tightly. “Now just follow me.”

“I will,” I say softly.

He moves back, and I step with him. He’s going slowly for me. We go in a box formation. It takes a bit, but I get the hang of it. (He was right, it just takes practice.) Soon, we’re moving in perfect sync, gliding across the floor. It’s like we were on a cloud. Nothing exists outside of the two of us, our hands, our feet, everything. I’m too damn happy to care about anything else.

The song ends. Mystery Man and I slow then stop. Our eyes are fixed together. Bit by bit, our hands lower, until they fall away. All I can hear is our deep breathing.

“Thank you,” he says, “This was-”

I grab his face and kiss him.

In hindsight, this was a poor decision. We just met, my girlfriend broke up with me only two weeks ago, and we’re wearing bloody masks, which knock together awkwardly. But I don’t care. I don’t care that we barely touch, resulting in just a shy brush of lips. It’s all I want to do in this moment. But he’s just frozen. Maybe I read the signals wrong (I do that a lot). So I pull back slightly

That’s when he grabs my collar and collides with me. Our mouths smash together. He’s unbelievably warm. I feel like every part of my body is burning with sensation. I grab his neck, running my thumbs over his skin. We angle until the masks are barely in the way. He kisses me furiously, like he's desperate. His tongue runs against mine, and I nearly fall over with the buckle in my knees. This man’s grip is the only thing keeping me up. I’m falling harder than I ever have before. I’m falling with him, and I couldn't be happier.

He pulls away slightly, our mouths still close.

“Simon,” he sighs under his ragged breath, and my heart beats manically. I kiss him again, and again, and aga-

Wait.

I pull back. He tries to chase after my mouth, but I softly press on his chest to keep him away.

“How..." I pant, "how do you know my name?”

He freezes. His eyes are filled with absolute terror. I’ve never seen anyone so scared. He shoves me away with enough force to make me stumble. With one last scared look, he dashes off.

“Hey wait!” I yell.

Mystery Man must be on the fucking track team, because he’s bloody Usain Bolt. I chase after him but I’m not in the best shape (the price for my love of scones.) He bursts through the double doors. When I get there, he’s already hailed down a cab. I watch it drive off while breathing heavily.

“Shit,” I huff. “Did I just get fucking Cinderella’d?!”

“Hey, Simon!” I turn to see Trixie come out of the doors. She’s frowning terribly. “Did your date just run off with a costume? That’s very rude. Next time you see him, tell him to bring it back.”

I stand up and cross my arms. “He wasn’t my date. Well, he was. But I just met him though. I have no idea who the fuck that is.”

And I’m not sure I ever will.

I get back to the dorms around 11. Getting out of that damn costume was surprisingly harder than getting in it. I stumble in, kicking my shoes against the wall. A groan sounds from the bed opposite mine. There’s a Baz shaped lump of multiple blankets on the bed opposite mine. Well, after such a dreamy night, I guess I need a dose of reality. And Baz is certainly that.

I strip down to my boxers and flop on my mattress. It squeaks under me. As I drift to sleep, I ghost a finger over my lips, still tingling with the memory of that man. And when I dream, it’s us dancing on a cloud.

The morning light wakes me up, which I don’t appreciate. I’m groggy, tired, and bloody annoyed. I had the most amazing evening with the most amazing man, and I don’t even know his name. Yet he knew mine! Is he a distant admirer? Some sort of stalker? Do I have class with him? Is he going to show up at my door and kiss me stupid again? Because I would really, really like that.

I groan and kick off the sheet. My bleary eyes rest on the other bed. For once, Baz isn’t gone. He’s sitting there against the headboard, balancing a textbook on his knees. But he’s obviously looking at me. Until I notice, that is.

“What is it, Baz?” I growl.

He opens his mouth like he’s ready to speak. But quickly closes it instead and buries his face in the textbook.

“Nothing, Snow,” his muffled, prickly voice says from behind the paper.

“Whatever. Prick.”

I stumble and crash my way through the dorm room. My head’s still not right. I don’t think I slept that much. I just want to go take a shower and curl up in my fluffy TARDIS robe. I reach to open my closet.

“Wait, Snow don’t!” Baz shouts. But it’s too late.

I open the door. I blink the sleep out of my eyes. This isn’t my closet. Mine is a mess of haphazardly stuffed dirty clothes. This one is filled with folded t-shirts, jeans, and grey hoodies.

Along with a crimson baroque costume and dragon masquerade mask, hanging in the back.

I’m not sure how long I stand there. Just, staring at it. My thoughts are like a car wreck of confusion. Slowly, I process what this means. Why this costume is hanging in Baz’s closet. I pivot on my feet. Baz is leaning forward on his bed, textbook tossed to the side. I recognise that look of terror. That fear in his grey eyes.

His gorgeous grey eyes.

“Baz...” I say softly. “You... you were Mystery Man?”

Baz pulls back to the wall, curling his hands into his chest. He nods rapidly. “Yeah.”

I run a hand through my hair, chewing the nails on my other. I think my brain is exploding. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” I mutter. “Why? Why did you dance with me? Why didn't you tell me it was you? Why did you bloody kiss me?!”

Baz leans his chin on his fists behind his knees. “I’m sorry,” he moans. “I-I just went there because Niall asked me to. But then you were there, in that beautiful fucking costume, and I finally got the confidence to attempt an actual conversation. I thought you would recognise me but you didn't. And I realised you’d freak out if you knew it was me, because you hate me. So I just, played along! It was so much fun, dancing with you. Then... you fucking kissed me and I was in heaven. But I-I didn’t mean for it to go that far, I’m sorry!” He moans again and pushes his face into his sleeve covered hands.

I always thought Baz was just a dick who never wanted to talk to me because I was dumber than him. Like he didn't know how to interact with a lower life form. But looking at him now, bright red and fumbling, I see that he's not some cold asshole. He's just... a boy.

I take cautious steps towards him. Slowly, I sit on the end of the bed. “For how long, though? Have you liked me?”

He doesn't speak for a bit, and when he does, it's through his hoodie. “Almost since we met.” He burrows deeper into the grey fabric. “But I've been too scared! You make me so nervous. That’s why I can’t even bloody talk to you properly! That’s not your fault though, it’s mine, I know. And last night, with you not knowing it was me, I could pretend I hadn’t already ruin everything. That you actually could like me back!” He hunches even further down, wrapping his arms around his shins and hiding in his jeans.

“That’s why you insult me all the time? And avoid me?” I say softly. “All because you have a crush on me?”

He nods rapidly. “I’m not good with, feelings and stuff. Asshole is my default. Especially when I’m scared. I’m so sorry.”

I’ve met two Baz Pitches so far. One is a quiet asshole who throws insults every time he speaks. The second is calm, confident, and beyond charming. This third one in front of me, is an incredibly anxious man who cannot process his feelings properly. But, I think all those Bazes are parts of a fundamentally good person.

I place a hand on his knee. He tenses at the touch. “You know,” I say, “there’s one thing that’s really been bugging me.” Baz inhales sharply. “Where on Earth did you learn to waltz so well?”

The tension releases from him. Baz shifts slightly out of his hunch. Just a titch, letting his eyes show. “My dad sent me to lessons when I was 17. He thought it’d help me get girls, since I’d never had a girlfriend before. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I was hopelessly queer.”

I chuckle. “Well at least they sort of paid off.”

He shrugs, bringing his head up to rest on his knees. His face is soft and kind. “I guess.”

And with that smile, he looks like Mystery Man. The charming guy who made me feel safe and happy when I was scared. Slowly, I reach out towards his face. He pulls back until he his head hits the wall.

“It’s alright,” I say softly.

He relaxes. I take off his glasses, giving me clear view of his eyes. They really do sparkle. I carefully cup his cheek. He sighs and leans into my touch. I turn a bit red myself.

“Just for future reference,” I say, “if you like someone, maybe open with ‘hi’ instead of ‘don’t put your stuff on my side of the room.’”

Baz groans deeply, knocking his forehead against his legs. “I knoooow. I just, you walked in on the first day, being absolutely goddamn gorgeous. And I knew I was totally screwed, so I guess I thought, ‘better just make him hate me so I don’t get hurt.’ Stupid, I know.”

“No, it’s not stupid.” I scoot forward. “It’s a natural reaction. We all get freaked out. I mean, with my first crush, I was so scared I threw up on her shoes.”

Baz brings his head up, eyes bugging out. “Jesus, Snow! How old were you?!”

I look down. “...13.”

He snorts, then bursts out laughing. There are tears in his eyes. I turn even brighter bright red. “Shut up, it was an accident.”

“Oh I bloody well hope so!”

He slowly calms down. Then we're just sitting there, both of my hands now on his knees, staring at each other. We're so close. It feels wonderful. Baz shifts uncomfortably though. He chews at his lip nervously.

“Simon,” he starts, “that guy from last night, I'm not always like that. I'm not always that smooth, or confident. I mean, I could try to be, if you like...’

I shake my head vigorously. “No! No, don't do that. I don't want you to force yourself to be that all the time. Or hide who you are either. You should just, be yourself.”

Baz looks at me wide eyed. I'm not really sure what his emotion is. Wonder? Worry? Something in between? “But, do you actually know me?”

I shrug. “Not really, I guess. I've met different sides of you. But,” I reach down to his hoodie sleeves and grab his amazingly rough hands, bringing them up between us, “I'd like to get to know you. All of you. Not just the sides.”

He lets out the breath he'd been holding in and leans his forehead onto our joined knuckles. “I'm such an idiot. If only I'd tried this ages ago.”

“Pff! What, hiding your identity at a masquerade ball, impressing me with your dancing skills, and running away like Cinderella after snogging me senseless?!”

Baz looks up, rolling his eyes. “No, you idiot. Just talking to you like a normal person. Instead of hiding and spitting vitriol. I fucked it all up.”

I sigh and lean my cheek on our hands. “Oh don't take all the blame, love. I could've been nicer too. I'm pretty sure my first words to you were 'fuck off, you asshole prick’. Not exactly diplomatic, hm?” I raise an eyebrow, making him smile.

“No. I guess we both got off on the wrong foot.”

Suddenly, I get an idea. I pull away from him and stand up. “Get up.” Baz stares at me confused. “Don't just look at me, stand up!”.

Baz shrugs and gets to his feet. He stands at his full height. (Which is good, but it sort of sucks that he's taller than me.) I stick out my hand to him.

“Hi, I'm Simon. We’re roommates. Nice to meet you.” Baz stares at me very confused. I wiggle my fingers for emphasis. “C’mon, Baz, let's start off on the right foot now.”

He blinks a couple times, then smirks. He takes my hand. There's that sparky rough palm feeling again. I love it. “Hello Simon, I'm Baz. I think you're really cute. Want to go get coffee?”

I give him one firm shake. “I'd love to. But,” I gingerly pull my hand away, “let me put on some trousers first?”

Baz laughs heartily at that. (He has a really nice laugh.) I throw on some trackies and a Watford shirt. Baz tosses me my sandals, and we're both (mostly) properly dressed for the world. I take his hand and weave our fingers together.

“C'mon, Mystery Man, “ I say. “Let's have a proper date.”

He squeezes me lightly. “Sounds delightful, Moon Boy.”

I start walking, and he follows. “You are not allowed to call me that!”

“Oh so you’re making the rules now? This relationship is off to a rocky start already.”

I open our door, turning to him with a sarcastically bewildered look. “Relationship? Aren't you presumptuous. We're just having coffee."

Baz closes it behind us with a kick. “Well, with the huge exception of last night, I only snog people I'm dating. So I guess no more wonderful kisses for you.”

“Cruel bastard,” I say with a glare.

He glares back. “Whiny brat.” 

I'd usually be offended, but there's no bite to his voice. Only playful caring. We stroll down the hall, hands clasped. I don't plan on loosening my grip, and neither does he.

I let my Mystery Man go once. Never again.

AN: And there we go! So pretty much Baz was more awkward but still an asshole. Just a different way of him not coping with his emotions lol. I really enjoyed writing this. Simon being an oblivious little shit is so much fun. Also I love fancy dancing and masks. Overall, this was great.

Request more kiss fics here

[snowkatze]

A Vampire’s Best Friend

To anyone who’s sad and anyone who likes Simon and Baz and dogs Genre: domestic fluff Word Count: 1468 Summary: Simon and Baz get a dog, but there are complications.

In the middle of the night, Snow nudges me awake.

“Baz,” he whispers. “Are monsters real?” “What the fuck are you talking about?” I look at him like he's being especially idiotic.

“Of course they're real.”

“I don't mean like goblins and stuff...” Or vampires, I add in my head.

“I meant like... um... don't laugh, okay?” “I can't promise that.”

“Is there such a thing as... the monster under the bed?” For a second I just stare at him, trying to figure out whether he's taking the piss or actually serious about this. Then I burst out laughing.

“Wait,” he says alerted and grabs my arm. “There it was again.” “What?” “Is that you, Baz?” “What the fuck?” “I'm freaking out a bit. Something is nibbling my toe. I can hear it breathing, I think.” “Snow.”

“Can you bite it?” “I know it's late, but... You can't tell me that you forgot.”

“Forgot what?”

“We got a dog. Yesterday.” “Of course I haven't – Oh.”

“Right. You're an idiot, Snow.” I turn on the lights and there she sits, tongue sticking out of her mouth and wagging her tail. “She looks incredibly monstrous, Snow,” I huff sarcastically, and a bit tiredly, “I can see where you're coming from.” “Stop mocking me,” Snow says, but is already distracted and starts petting her. Great. I can't believe I'm going to have to fight for Snow's attention with a fucking dog now.

I'm still not entirely sure what to think of her.

“Are you sure you're okay?” Simon had asked.

“Why wouldn't I be?”” “You know, because werewolves and all? She's related to them, that means she's basically your enemy.” I had been tempted to brush him off with a simple “fuck you”, but instead I answered: ���Well, I seem to have a thing for my enemies,” and looked at him tenderly, only further proof that I've become way too soft.

“I don't know how often I have to keep telling you this, but this is not Twilight, Snow. And if anything, she's the g-rated version of a werewolf. I could get rid of her easily if I wanted to.”

“Baz!” “Which I don't, obviously. Yet.” She's a beautiful Golden Retriever with fluffy long fur and warm brown eyes. Snow saw her at the animal shelter when she was still awfully skinny and her fur a dirty mess. She had been abandoned by her former owners. I can see why he likes her.

Later, I'm awoken by a loud crash and when Bunce comes over a few minutes later (She never had the decency to wait until noon before visiting) I'm standing over a broken vase, whilst Snow is off to get some cleaning supplies, that we still don't have in our new apartment.

“Was that the dog?” Bunce asks when she spots the mess.

“I wish it was the dog,” I hiss between gritted teeth.

“Where is she?” “In the bedroom. This is not a safe environment for dogs, what were we thinking?”

Bunce sighs and pushes her glasses back on her nose.

“You know what you were thinking. Is it working?” I wrinkle my nose.

“We'll have to wait and see. He seems excited, to say the least.” “I'm back!” Snow announces in that moment and I greet him with my least annoyed smile.

“See, I found some dog treats as well,” he smiles and holds up the dog biscuits he bought a few months ago for himself without realizing it was meant for dogs, saying: “See, Baz, it's even got cute dogs on the package.”

“This is going to be a disaster,” I mutter under my breath.

“Be optimistic,” Bunce whispers back, “You're jinxing it.”

As it turns out, the dog isn't much better than Snow. When I come back from work, I see Snow holding a shredded pillow. He looks at me guiltily and I simply raise my eyebrow in disapproval.

“This time it was her,” he remarks and points to the dog, who happily gnaws on a biscuit.

“And you gave her a treat for that?” I shake my head in amusement.

“At least now you know how I feel when I constantly have to clean up your messes.” “Stop being a tosser, I clean up my messes myself.”

I kneel down in front of the dog, reaching out my hand, but she flinches away before I can touch her. Surprised, I recoil to find her making a whining noise at me. It doesn't sound angry, just frightened.

“Baz,” Simon mutters. “Maybe she's just afraid of strangers.” “She doesn't appear to be afraid of you.”

“Well, perhaps she'll just -” “Whatever, Snow. Your dog's a mess anyway.” Of course I'm lying.

“I thought she was our dog, Ba-”

I'm out the door before he can finish. He can probably tell that I'm mad, but he wouldn't understand. I know why she's frightened of me. Animals have instincts for this sort of thing.

I guess this settles it. There's nothing Snow can say against it any more. I really am a monster.

It certainly is a disaster. When I get home from university every day, I find Snow and Scone playing, or making chaos, or something else, and then I'm the one who doesn't fit in. It's fifth year all over again. She won't come near me, whilst she gets along with Snow perfectly. So perfectly, in fact, that one day I come home to them sitting on the couch next to one another, and when they notice me, they simultaneously shift their heads. Snow has the same innocent, pleading gaze that she has. Looking at them like that, I've had it.

“This has to stop, Snow.” “What do you mean?” “This is an intervention, understood?” “What? Why?” “I can't tell whether I'm dating a human or a dog any more.” “Why would you think you were dating Scone?” “That's not what I was saying. I meant that you're behaving like a dog half the time.” “So?” “You were supposed to treat her like.... I don't know, your child. Not your brother. I hate to break this to you, but you are not a dog.” “Hey, don't take this out on me. I'm sorry she hasn't warmed up to you yet, but how could you expect her to when you're anything but warm? And I don't mean just temperature-wise.” “Great. You're siding with the dog. I get it.” And then I leave, so he doesn't realize he hit me in a vulnerable spot. Because he's right. If that damn dog can't like me, why would he? I can feel my hands growing colder. He must be a lunatic for staying with me. A vampire. A really unfriendly one, to that. And it's only a matter of time until he realizes that himself.

“Don't be stupid, Baz,” I tell myself. “Snow's not going to break up with you because of a dog.”

Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder. Snow. Of course he would come after me.

“Baz?” he mumbles softly and takes my hand. I try to get my breathing under control.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers into my ear and I shudder.

“Look, google says that she might be avoiding you because you're stressed.” “You know that's not the reason.” “Is there something you're concerned about?” “I don't blame her, Snow. I don't like vampires either.” “You're not – Please, Baz. Just talk to me.” “Fine.”

I lower my gaze. “I'm concerned about you. And about how the dog hasn't helped.” “What?” “Penny and I thought if you took responsibility of a dog, you'd start taking responsibility of yourself, too. But you still haven't applied to any other universities. Or thought about the future. All you do all day is lay around, like some animal, instead of concentrating on what's ahead of you. And you've done that ever since your dropped out of Uni. You can't carry on like that.” “Hey, it's not yours or Penny's responsibility to take care of my life!”

“Well, somebody's got to do it.”

For a moment, Snow just growls at me, but then his expression softens.

“You're right, Baz. I'm just – too scared, you know? What if I don't get in? What if I'll be miserable again?” “Then I'll be there to help you,” I whisper and run my fingers through his hair. Suddenly, I feel something pushing against my leg. I look down and see Scone nudging my knee.

“Look,” Simon smiles. “She does like you.” I smirk and carefully tickle her under the chin.

Screw not being too soft. For our dog and Snow, I'll be the softest vampire in the universe.